[ for (quotev user) ;; @ Hermione150 ]

Gentle rays of sunlight streamed into the Gryffindor girl's room, partially obscured by the red-and-gold decorative curtains that hung on either side of the large, arching windows, illuminating the embroidered lions that patterned the top and bottom in neat, narrow rows, casting shadows of the majestic creatures onto the tile flooring beneath it. A gorgeous blue sky sat just outside, silently beckoning the room's inhabitants outside. Most were. It was, after all, a Saturday - and, by your fifth year, if your parents still hadn't signed your Hogsmeade approval letters, you were in for a rather unfortunate time.

Most of the girls were already visible through the glass panes. They stood with their friends, laughing, or pointing up at different buildings, no doubt amidst the gossip about everything that had occurred so far during their return to Hogwarts. It was a scene that buzzed with life from corner to corner.

As I tore my gaze away from the outdoor festivities, my eyes fell on an equally buzzing realm, albeit indoors - and, quite frankly, alive in a completely different way. Raised voices could be heard from the bathrooms, where those last few stragglers were getting ready, but the tones were far less than happy.

"How can you agree with that nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense, it's the truth!"

I flopped back down on my bed, ignoring the flutter of papers that occurred as a result of my abrupt force against the mattress. Of course. I'd gone to bed last night believing, truly believing, or at the very least dearly, direly desiring, that when I was awoken on the next day, the issues of yesterday would be resolved. Maybe 'resolved' was too strong a word. I'd hoped that the issues would be dropped and left where they belonged - in the world of yesterday.

And yet, there I was, the morning after it all, hearing every word again and again. The room was a broken record and I was nothing more than its sad, unwilling player, forced into listening to it over and over until I thought my ears would bleed, until my mind went completely insane. I gritted my teeth against one another. My ears may not have been tinged with hemoglobin, but my mind was just about at its breaking point.

Hogwarts was like a second home to me. Yes, it's had its fair share of awful twists and turns, but it was where I could learn, and where I could relax, and just forget about the world around me, replacing it instead with a world of magic and spells. But recently, everything seemed to be taking a turn for the worse.

If I was told to put a finger on it, I would have had to say that I'd only really first noticed the issues near the beginning of last year, what with all the Triwizard Tournament business. The whole ordeal had completely disrupted my schedule. Instead of classes, we'd had balls, and instead of time to study, we'd been forced to go and sit at the site of the next arena, watching the poor contestants risk their lives, all for some stupid trophy. And then...well, it had really worsened at the end of the year.

How were you supposed to react when one of your classmates died?

I wasn't ever the closest person to Cedric, but he'd seemed nice enough, and from the few classes that we did used to have together, I'd grown a liking to his upbeat personality. I had genuinely hoped I'd get to know him better. But then he was one of the chosen four, and all his time was spent with the other contestants, or in preparation for the next competition.

And then, he was no more.

This was why, when upon first hearing word of it last night, I'd immediately agreed with Harry Potter's words: Voldemort was back.

After all, how could I not? Just last year one of my fellow peers had died at that tyrant's very hands, and even before that he - or at least some version of him - had captured little Ginny, and then before that he'd wound up in Professor Quirrell's turban. I'd had my own suspicions of him gaining power myself; hearing someone else say the words, though, was more than enough to compact that suspicion into truth.

Yet there were still those who thought that everything Harry said was completely false. How? I myself had no bloody idea. But there were those that did think him a liar, and perhaps the worst part of it all was that there weren't just a handful. No. More than half of the Gryffindor house alone had immediately shut him up and put him down. I could hardly imagine what the other houses' reactions were, but I had a creative enough imagination to envision that they all were even worse.

"I just don't understand how you think he's lying," a familiar voice cut through my thoughts, and I poked my head up, just enough to see round the corner, when Hermione strode past with a grim look across her face. "People can't make these things up."

A head of bows followed, shooting back with, "Haven't you heard what the Ministry's saying? None of it's true. He's probably just seeking attention."

"Seeking attention?" Hermione's tone was bitterly cutting and impeccably incredulous. Part of me was worried that she'd continue pushing her point - no matter how much I believed she was correct - on Lavender, because this entire thing was idiotic, and if Lavender's mind wasn't clear enough to recognize the truth when she heard it, that was her fault. I was sick and tired of hearing her shove her opinions off on the few that actually realized the gravity of the situation. Luckily, my wish was granted. "Fine then. Believe whatever you'd like. That doesn't mean you're correct." And, with that, the last remaining supporter of Harry's beliefs was gone.

Lavender, still fuming from their previous exchange, tensely inched over to her bed, rigidly grabbing a hairbrush from her bedside cabinet and raking it through her hair. I squeezed further beneath the covers in an attempt to go unnoticed. This was all for naught, of course, because my blanket just had to catch on my fingernail and move along with me.

"Oh! Chloe, you're still here?" Lavender set her brush down, seemingly recovered through the apparently therapeutic up-and-down motions of the action, pulling my blanket back.

I offered a tight-lipped smile. "Hi."

She groaned, running a hand through her hair and immediately undoing all her work. "Sorry you heard that, then. If I'd known you were still here, I wouldn't have gone off on Hermione like that..."

"Oh - no. Don't worry." I was somehow managing my poise. And that smile, if you could even call it that, still rested atop my face. "Everything's just getting really tense."

With an exasperated noise of grievance, she nodded, returning to a sitting position atop her own bed, just across from mine. She crossed her arms over her lap before adding, "Okay. Well - at least you know that she's wrong."

Her grin, similarly to mine, was completely fabricated. I could tell by its plastic look, the way it didn't quite reach her eyes, the way that her eyebrows crunched down atop her eyelids until she looked like a complete madwoman. "I'm sorry?" I countered.

"Chloe," she giggled, "come on. You don't actually believe any of this, do you?"

I shot up into a sitting position in the flash of an instant, closing my eyes for a moment and inhaling sharply. I was treading dangerous water. That, I knew. Regardless of whether or not Lavender shared my thoughts was beside the point; the fact that she'd contributed to all the propaganda and resorted to almost name-calling got just up under my skin, piercing my very arteries with a sense of newfound rage that I didn't know I'd possessed to begin with. Our classmate had died, and Harry had seen it, and was probably traumatized from such a thing - and Lavender just said that he was 'seeking attention?' "Actually, I do." This was as deep beneath the earth of her mindset that I was travelling. I just wanted to be at Hogsmeade then, perusing the sweets and treats, letting all this stress go, at least, as much as I could, before I'd have to come back and face it all again. "But let's get going, yeah? Don't want the others to leave for Hogsmeade without us."

As I rose up and headed to the restroom, taking asylum in one of the stalls and changing out of my nightgown, Lavender's voice was loud enough to follow after me. "Chloe - drop the act. There's no way someone as smart as you believes that anything Potter says is true?"

The way that she spat out his name sickened me, and I had to swallow down the bile that had risen in my throat. "Let's just drop it," I murmured, "we can still have a good time, can't we?"

"No, actually." Her footsteps grew ever closer to me, and her voice was louder now, only not because she was attempting to reach me from far away, but because she was endeavoring to hide her ire. "I don't believe we can."

I nearly bumped into her as I emerged from the stall in my day-wear. "Oh - okay. Then we should just get going..."

She folded her arms, shaking her head with disapproval. "I can't believe it," she muttered, "you honestly think he's telling the truth?"

Now I was on my wit's end. "Yes. I do. And I'd like to get going."

Lavender fell silent for a long while. After the first few minutes of this welcomed quiet, I began to head towards the door of the room, feeling the weight on my shoulders being slowly but surely alleviated. Perhaps I could just get on with the day like I'd hoped to.

"I can't believe you."

And perhaps not.

I spun around, sharply inhaling as I found that Lavender had somehow closed in on me without my realization. "Look - let's just -"

"Let's have a talk," she hissed, her fists clenched at her sides. "You get called 'the smartest witch' in the grade, alongside Hermione - and yet you both don't realize what you're doing?"

I put my hands out like stop signs. "No, we don't, alright? Please." Oh, please let her just take the hints, hell, they weren't even hints, I wasn't sure how much clearer I could be than actually motioning 'stop.'

And, of course, she completely ignored them. "You're not smart at all," she sneered, "you've just become brainwashed by all this talk of death and destruction. You can read your books all you'd like, but when you pick your head up you're no brighter than a rat. Too idiotic to even see beyond your own nose."

My arms fell limply to my sides and I took a few staggering steps back. My vision blurred and my hearing went hazy, the static white noise filling my ears, colors mixing together until I couldn't even tell what I was looking at, my coordination so jolted I had no idea where I was going. My mind throbbed against my skull, and my heart, oh, god, it was beating way too fast, too hard, and the blood in my system wasn't blood at all but confusion, confusion and shame, shame that was bleeding out through the holes that had been shot through my body. Everything was wrong. Nobody had ever...nobody would ever...they wouldn't say things like that, they wouldn't mean things like that...they couldn't.... Tears sprung forth from my eyes and I was a running mess. One leg in front of the other - remembering that was practically all I could do. Breathe in, exhale. Just keep going. Keep going like your life depends on it. And in that moment, it did. Because Lavender had just fired off Cruciatus curses at me with those words. Because I was pretty sure that I'd been hit.

Go go go go. Keep going. Faster faster faster, my heart was taken by tachycardia, my mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, and I'd never felt more ill before in my entire life. Where then? Library. Yeah. That was a safe place. Even if Lavender was still following me - I had no idea if she'd tried to do such a thing in the first place - she wouldn't be able to get away with yelling at me in public, much less in a place that was supposed to be quiet. Breathe. Every time I blinked, somehow, the hues and saturations of the objects around me began to return to their correct place. The world wasn't chaos anymore, and nobody was screaming at me anymore, there was only silence.

Silence and me and bookshelves.

I'd never been more glad to see a Saturday than I was then. That meant practically nobody was in the library. Which, in turn, meant that I could sit and process and keep pumping blood. My subconscious must've returned, too, because my fingers were suddenly travelling across the backs of books, jumping from shelf to shelf, aisle to aisle, scanning for something large enough to hide my face in. That was why I loved books. They smelled like old paper and felt like a memory, and you could cry behind them all you wanted without anyone knowing.

That was a technique I'd known for longer than I probably should have.

Nevertheless, I achieved that short goal, and found myself retreating to my usual seat with a large, weighty novel in my hands. I didn't bother to read its title. Just having it against my skin was enough.

As I rounded the corner, I was overcome with a wave of relief at the sight of my precious table, and raced to it like it was the only thing keeping me sane, because, quite honestly, it was, and it had been ever since my first year at this school. I'd first found the secluded, old little desk as a mere first year, when I'd been looking for a quiet place to just relax for a few moments. The increasing bouts of sadness I had been defeated with recently weren't new. No. As much as I may have hated to admit it, even from a young age, there was hardly a day where I could say that I felt happiness.

Some were better than others. That was, of course, to be expected, and was only backed by more condemning evidence in the case of that day and its events. As I propped the book up and put my head in my hands, feeling the soft wood of the table beneath my hands, I closed my eyes, succumbing to that ever-present darkness that always seemed to linger, no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of it. I was spiraling down again. Once more I was lost in my own head, involuntarily subjected to repeats of Lavender's words; a broken record that only grew more and more ruined with every replay it underwent. The single table, the single chair, the single small, shielded area just at the fore of the restricted section...that was the only thing that tethered me to the real world.

How ironic. I'd ended up alone, with nothing more than a book. Stupid.

Doomed to re-watch every single minute of every single second of every awful situation I'd ever survived. Stupid.

Apparently smart, but not intelligent enough to find a way out of that terrifying cycle. Stupid.

I had to run to escape my problems? Pathetic. Stupid.

The only good thing about me had been my intelligence. Stupid.

Without that, I wouldn't've made it past the first year. Wouldn't have had any friends at all. Stupid.

That was the only thing anyone could ever like about me. Stupid.

And now I had nothing. Stupid.

I was crying again. Stupid.

I was stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

I was so, so stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

"'The Complete History of Arithmancy - Unabridged Edition?' Did someone write that to purposefully torture students?"

I was stupid. I was stupid and crying and now there was someone in front of me, watching me being stupid and crying. And I knew exactly who it was. My sleeve inadvertently became my tissue paper, as I ran them across my eyes, concealing all signs of my anguish as best I could, preparing myself to maintain a composed face as I peeked out from behind my book. My eyes met with perhaps one of my only real friends - if I could even say that anymore - Fred Weasley. "Oh. Hi, Fred." It was piteous and feigned, but it was all I could do.

I held my breath as I saw his expression morph into something reminiscent of worry, but felt my chest finally expand once more as he spoke without mentioning it. "I'm George - but hi there, Chloe." And with that he'd plopped himself down on top of my table.

Under normal circumstances, I would've perceived this as nothing more than a joke, and brush it off before continuing the conversation. After all, this was Fred I was talking about. But then...I could feel the pressure building up behind my eyes again, and there went the pigmentation, spinning together into incohesive shapes, and there went my mind, because maybe Lavender had been right. For all I knew this actually was George, and I'd just been too idiotic to tell them apart. I'd probably confused him, too. My knees grew weak under the weight of this realization.

Lavender had been right.

I was an absolute dunce; too dumb to even tell two of my closest friends apart, much less figure out what was real and what was propaganda, what to believe and what to cast aside as overreactions blown up by popular figures and people with power, and there was that crushing void again, and I was standing on a building looking down at it, watching, frozen and helpless, as it engulfed my very being.

The tears came faster and harder than they ever had before, and I wasn't really sure what I was doing anymore. I remember I'd hit something on my way out, and I'd felt the pain shoot up my leg from my ankle, and I remember that I'd dashed out of the library just as quickly as I'd entered it. There was no escape from this. There weren't any safe places. Everywhere I went was only doomed to end up just the way I'd dreaded it would've.

I barely even heard Fred or George or whoever that person really was calling out, "Was it something I said?"

_______________________

It had been a few hours since the incident had occurred in the library. I was now seated on a small loveseat in the common room, and with every passing moment, I'd grown more and more concerned for Chloe. Whatever had been going through her mind earlier...well, it certainly wasn't anything good. Something that was most definitely good, however, was the fact that I'd managed to nab one of her books from her the other day.

Not because I like stealing. I wouldn't have even really called it that to begin with, more like borrowing without permission. Except I sort of did have permission - the unspoken kind, but that bond you've got with friends, where it's just sort of mutually understood that if I needed something, I'd take it, and once I was done with it, it would find its way back to their hands. Besides, it had been for research. So surely not stealing.

Knowing this special sort of bond that Chloe and I had, I'd been able to deduce that she'd quickly find out her novel was missing, and come down out of the girls' dormitory to search for it, with me, of course, as her prime suspect. Not because I was stealing. Because she knew full and well the extensive research that George and I had to do in order for our creations to function just as we'd intended them to.

Sure enough, no more than five minutes after that thought had flickered across my mind, the door to the girls' dorm swung open, holding Chloe's form within it. The sound of soft sobs were the first thing to reach my head, but were quickly followed by the sight of her shaking, wiping her eyes furiously with every breath I could take.

And apparently I should've been breathing quieter, because she almost immediately froze in her tracks, gaze meeting mine. This time there was no denying it.

The tears within her eyes were bubbling over, tracing liquid lines down her red cheeks, puffy from repetitive cycles of crying, nose red from sniffling. She started like a deer in the headlights, but I couldn't help feeling the same way.

Chloe...oh, bloody hell, that girl. She'd been subjected to far too much for someone with a soul like hers. Even from her first year, when she'd taken her initiative seat at the Gryffindor table, there had always been something off - something like an air of sadness, always floating around wherever she went. Not long into her second year I'd found my impressions as not merely intuition, but as actuality. It seemed as though whatever evils targeted my little brother managed to find their way to her, too, and knowing this, I'd always tried my best to be there for her. Admittedly, it had been hard at first. She rarely was open about the things that caused her pain. It had always been her nature to hide them, keep them to herself, and out of everyone else's life. But nonetheless, she'd always told me when something was wrong. And I'd always managed to help her in one way or another.

But not then. She'd only ran when I'd approached her earlier, and, for a moment, I was almost positive that she'd run again. Instead, she met my gaze. And I took my chance. I was determined to find out why she'd been crying, and why she'd run, and why she hadn't told me about it in the first place. My eyes softened, and I patted the cushion next to me. "C'mere," I murmured.

Having said nothing more than that simple phrase, she found herself collapsing into the seat beside mine, leaning against me, her tears restarting, falling hard and without pause against my shirt. "Tell Freddy what's wrong."

For a few moments there was nothing more than her quiet wails. And then, "Are you sure?" Her words were choked, and they came at a great cost, with her erupting into more tremors afterwards. "Or are you actually just George, waiting to prove me wrong?"

My heart was absolutely split by her. The sight of her like this, her words...this was because of me? "No," I urged, gently, feeling my own mind race at the possibility that I'd caused her this amount of torment, "don't tell me that's why you've been crying...?"

"N-no, no - it's not, it...it wasn't you," she wept, almost louder now at my question, "i-it wasn't..." she trailed off, pressing all of her weight against me, her head finding its way just beneath my chin, against my collarbones.

Without thinking, I put an arm around her, gingerly pulling her close and setting my head down on top of hers, letting my warmth envelope her, aiming to create as comforting of an atmosphere as I possibly could for her, especially there, especially then. I didn't even have to consider what I was doing as long as the thought help her, help her kept vehemently circulating in my mind. "Then what was it?" I queried quietly.

As she ran down the events of her day, my heart only continued to grow more taut, my emotions jeopardized by everything that had happened to her. Somehow, I remained silent. I merely nodded every now and then, nonverbally signaling my listening, as I knew she could feel my chin against the top of my scalp with every downward motion of my head. With every passing minute I grew more and more repentant. I could feel nothing but shame at myself; shame that I hadn't been there, shame that I hadn't done anything more, shame that I hadn't helped. So I immediately resolved to fix that.

Once she was finished, I found myself beginning, "Firstly, don't listen to anything that Lavender has to say. I've got my own issues with her - she refused to test our products. I mean, that's a privilege! Free candy, and free results, too, and she just turns it down."

This caused a small, repressed giggle to escape from Chloe. I peered over her head just in time to see her wiping away some of her tears, and I noticed, with a sense of appreciation, that she was no longer shaking as violently as she had been.

Therefore, I continued. "Secondly, you're the single brightest person I know. But that's beside the point, because that's not all you are. Even if you yourself can't recognize it..." I paused, a small smile appearing on my lips. This was working. Slowly but surely the fruits of my labor were showing, but still, there were showing, and as long as I could keep her at least a little bit happier than she would've been by herself, I had every intention of persisting. "Let's hold up on that. Fourthly, I've-"

"You've skipped 'thirdly,'" she cut in softly, voice less upset than before, but certainly nowhere near happy. Progress.

I couldn't help but laugh at her attention to detail. Somehow she still managed to stay sharp, even when in tears. "See? That proves my point even more. But I'm going to stick with 'fourthly,' because I don't feel the need to subject myself to mental abuse through The Complete History of Arithmancy - Unabridged Edition. Generally, if I can't get past the title, I don't care much for the book."

From beneath me she gave a muffled sigh, that perfect mix that lay somewhere between humor and disappointment, which was more encouraging than anything I could've hoped for.

We were headed down the right road, then. "I've got a new product that needs to be tested." With the raise of an eyebrow, I retracted my arm from around her side, and reached into the bag that had been sitting next to me for the entirety of my stay in the Gryffindor common room. "I was hoping you'd be willing to help me out with it?"

Still not exactly jumping for joy, but definitely better off than before, Chloe gave a small nod, slowly and reluctantly pulling away from my released grasp. "What is it?"

"You'll see." With nothing more than that rather ominous statement, I returned my attention to her, extending a hand with a small piece of pink candy, hastily wrapped in clear plastic. "Try it."

After a small but seemingly necessary shrug, she took the candy, popped it into her mouth, and began to chew. A few moments passed before she said anything. "Tastes nice," she began, giving me a small look of approval, "really good. Sort of fruity, almost?"

"Perfect," I replied, the smile on my lips growing ever-so-slightly. "So you know how to blow bubbles with gum, yeah?"

In an unexpected but nevertheless welcome turn of events, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, no, I don't. It's not like I rode the train here a few days ago - in the same compartment with you and your brother - and brought a whole stash of it - why, that'd be absolutely preposterous."

"Good to see that your sarcasm's alive and well," I remarked, chuckling. "So blow a bubble with that."

Her bubble-blowing skills were only further confirmed when, within a matter of mere seconds, a large bubble was escaping her lips, her face flushed with red, but now more so from effort at blowing out all that air than from crying. Her eyes squeezed shut as she gave it one large, last push, and with that, it popped - or, rather, talked.

As the bubble deflated, my voice reverberated from it, allowing a quick but rather loud phrase to escape. "I LOVE YOU."

Chloe's face grew, if possible, even more red, and her hands flew up to cover her face as shocked laughter followed almost straightaway, and as her face began to regain its normal, radiant glow, she buried it in my neck once more, only then with the added bonus of throwing her arms around me.

"So now we get to 'thirdly,'" I picked up, my chest rising with a short laugh despite myself, wrapping my arms around her, allowing a hand to find its way through her hair. "Even if you can't recognize it, your intelligence isn't the only reason people like you. You're adorable, and hilarious, and beautiful, and the life of the party, and adventurous enough to put up with me."

That last bit elicited a giggle from her.

My voice found itself growing softer. "And you shouldn't ever have to feel sad." It was quieter, more concerned, more honest and true; less of trying to make her happy and more of trying to make her see that I really, truly did care for her. "But I know that you do, and I also know that sometimes no matter how hard I try, I can't stop that sadness. Yet, on the other hand..." I tightened my grip on her and spun her around swiftly, a small gasp emanating from her as I set her down on my lap, her head tilted up towards me, her eyes filled with wonder and surprise and everything that made Chloe Chloe. "...I hope that moments like this can at least somewhat make up for moments like those."

Within seconds she took the opportunity and was kissing my cheek, returning to her former position with a grateful grin, wider than it had ever been before, gracing her face. It was a relief to see none of her previous sadness now. "They do. And - thank you, Fred. For...well, for everything." She fell silent for a moment, her gaze dropping. For a minute I found myself scrambling for the right words to say in case she relapsed into her sorrow, but then she added, "And I love you, too."

I pulled her in so, so tight. "Good. I felt like you might just have needed a little reminder."

She laughed, pure and real and glorious, and stayed within my embrace for a while before abruptly pulling away, suddenly tilting her head to the side and regarding me with a look of absolute confusion. "Wait - back in the library. You were...in front of me. But if you were in front of me, you were in -"

"The restricted section? Yes." I chuckled, reaching back and pulling out two books from my bag. One had Chloe's name written in neat cursive at the top left corner, and she hastily snatched it out of my hands, like a food-deprived animal upon its first meal in weeks.

"Oh, I knew you'd taken this," she groaned, leafing through the pages, "but - that's beside the point; why were you in the restricted section?"

I pouted, resting my chin in my hand. "Aw, Chloe...I thought we were past that point."

She wrinkled her nose. "Past the point of what?"

"Questioning my questionable activities," I smirked, leaning back against the couch, still keeping an air of dignity and faux nobleness about me. "But - if you must know - I needed it for the gum to work properly. And, see?" I paused to gesture at our situation, alone in the common room, pressed up against one another on the same sofa. "Aren't you glad I did it?"

With a sharp inhale, she admitted, "I'm not glad that you were breaking the rules as carelessly as that," with a sigh, then playfully socking my in the arm, causing my pout to increase, "but - I have to admit, yeah. That was pretty awesome."

I laughed, planting a kiss back on top of her forehead, returning her earlier favor. "Then I guess that's another product added to the shop?"

She retreated from my touch after my inquiry. "Uh, no."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I tensed, suddenly growing fearful that there really had been something wrong with it. Maybe it had been a mistake to test it out on her first. Did I perform the charm wrong? Had it backfired? Maybe I really shouldn't have trusted that book from the restricted section...

"I mean that you'd better not program all of them to say the same thing. Because then everyone who buys one will be wondering why the bloody hell some random boy loves them."

Ah. In that case, as long as I could keep making her happy, keep keeping her by my side, then I was more than willing to let the raids of the restricted section continue.

_________________________________________________________

This came out a bit longer than I intended; aha, I hope that's alright~! I found writing in Fred's POV really fun. cx

So a big thank you to @ Hermione150 on Quotev for requesting this! This was really enjoyable. Although I do feel somewhat bad for making Lavender quite OOC; I never perceived her as a 'bully' type, but it was an interesting concept to work with. ^-^

I hope you all enjoyed!

With love,

- Petri ♥