Chapter 5
Harry insisted on sitting next to Rebecca for the last class of the day, if only because neither Ron nor Hermione had had any luck bringing Rebecca back sitting next to her in any other hour of the day. Umbridge was nowhere to be seen at first. Lavender looked at Rebecca nervously from across the aisle, taking small glances out of the corner of her eye while Rebecca tried to ignore the continued looks from other fifth years who had been in the common room the night before.
Padma took a little bird she had folded out of parchment from her bag and enchanted it to fly, sending it in a wide circle around the room. One of the Slytherin girls blew as she looked up to it so the bird got more height and continued on. Seamus jumped up to whack it down and Dean frowned at him disapprovingly. Seamus grabbed Dean's hand under the desk as an apology. Neither boy was ready to put whatever it was they had discovered between them under the scrutiny of the public eye--they satisfied themselves with private bouts of hand-holding or discreet looks.
Crabbed turned his quill into a slingshot, the only spell he had ever totally mastered in his time at Hogwarts, and shot at it. Rebecca sighed as the paper bird's wing was torn, forced into a loopy spiral as the other wing wasn't able to do both.
Then, sending the students into shocked gasps, the bird ignited and fell back onto Padma's desk as a pile of ash. Professor Umbridge's smile neared constipated-child as the students all turned to the entrance of the classroom to see who had ruined the bird.
Hermione saw Rebecca roll her eyes as Umbridge walked to the front of the classroom in another outfit entirely made out of varying shades of pink and smiled, perhaps things would return to normal.
"Good morning, children." Professor Umbridge spoke in her high-pitched voice, waving her wand at the chalkboards so that they wrote as she spoke on. "Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. O-W-L's. More commonly known as O.W.L.s."
Some of the other students scoffed at how they were being spoken down to, Umbridge's voice similar to one that you would take to a toddler.
"Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so," Umbridge's smile grew. "And the consequences may be severe." She waved her wand at the stacks of books behind her and they lifted off the tables, floating slowly down the aisles so that one ended up in front of each student. "Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But, you'll be pleased to know that you'll be following a carefully-structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic."
Rebecca stared at the cover, wondering if this book was meant for first years and not them.
Hermione flipped through the cover of Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners quickly, skimming the index. She raised her hand and Professor Umbridge gave her permission to speak. "There's nothing in here about using defensive spells."
"Using spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated and chuckled as if Hermione had asked when they would be having tea with trolls. "I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."
Ron lifted his book with two fingers and held in in front of him like it was a soiled quidditch jersey. "We're not going to be using any magic?"
Harry glanced at Rebecca to see if she was hearing this before listening to Umbridge's explanation.
"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."
He rolled his eyes and spoke without raising his hand. "What's the use in that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."
Umbridge turned away and marched back to the front of the class. "Students will raise a hand when they speak in my class."
Rebecca snorted. "Well, does it have to be our own?"
Umbridge turned and stared down at her. "What?"
The classroom began to giggle softly. "You said," Rebecca raised the pitch of her voice in an uncharacteristically good impression. "Students must raise a hand,' not that they must raise their own hand."
Umbridge raised a hand and silenced the growing laughter. "It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is about."
Rebecca reached across her and Harry's table to grab his wrist and raise it up into the air instead of her own. "How's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?"
"There is nothing out there, dear." Umbridge tutted. "Who do you imagine would want to attack children, like yourself?"
Harry tore his hand from Rebecca's grasp, scowling. His eyes flashed darkly from behind his glasses. "Oh, I don't know..." He acted like he thought a moment before answering cynically. "Lord Voldemort, for one."
The students around the room looked away from Harry and down at their books at the Dark Lord's name. Umbridge froze, her eyes narrowing on Harry as she slowly stepped forward towards him. "Now let me make this quite plain," She started her way down the aisle once more. "You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This...is...a...lie."
Harry shook his head as she stopped next to their desk. "It's not a lie! I saw him--I fought him!"
"Detention Mr Potter!" Umbridge screeched.
"So what?" Rebecca asked, joining Harry. "The witches and wizards missing and showing up dead are all of their own accord?"
Umbridge's eyes flitted to Rebecca. "Enough! Detention for you too, Miss Potter." Umbridge took a breath before smoothing her hair and addressing the class calmer. "Just because your previous instruction was handled poorly by a dangerous half-breed-"
Something inside of Rebecca opened and she was filled with the very rage Lavender had brought out in her. She slammed her hands against her desk and threw herself to her feet. "Professor Lupin was the greatest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this school had ever seen. You stand in this classroom--his classroom--mocking him, you're not a professor. Just a glorified babysitter!"
Umbridge's face pinkened, slowly matching her blouse. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your outburst." Umbridge accio-ed a pad of paper lined with kittens and wrote on it quickly. "Here, you and Mr Potter have earned yourself a trip to your head of house. There, you'll be dealt with appropriately."
Rebecca grabbed her back and tore the note out of her hand. "For the future," Rebecca said before she turned to join Harry at the door. "My name is Potter Weasley."
Once Rebecca was outside with him, Harry slammed the door. He couldn't be bothered with restraining himself, not when the crunchy feeling was taking over his brain again--the feeling that his head was a crystal that was being tapped with a hammer lightly, waiting to see how much pressure it could withstand before shattering.
"How is anyone going to be prepared when Voldemort comes if we're learning theories instead of spells? Instead of practising?" Rebecca demanded of McGonagall as Harry handed over the note silently.
McGonagall unfolded the note and read it quickly, shaking her head. "Rebecca, nothing is ever quite that simple. You know that. Surely you do, by now?"
Harry sat in the chair across from McGonagall's desk, bringing the conversation away from Rebecca's slight rebuke. "But what are we to do, professor? Watch?"
Professor McGonagall nodded sharply. "Yes! Exactly! You both need to get a hold over yourselves before this grows any more troublesome. She's not just here as a professor, children." McGonagall leaned closer, lowering her voice. "She's here on behalf of the Ministry. Her position will lead to trouble for you, particularly if the rumours of a common-room-based beating are renewed."
Rebecca's cheeks burnt as McGonagall revealed that she had heard about the Lavender incident. "You don't-You couldn't know what she said.""
McGonagall leaned back in her chair and waved her arms. "Enlighten me then!"
Rebecca turned away from the professor and Harry without saying anything at first. "She said I killed her." Rebecca stayed facing the windowed wall, unable to look at them. "She said that I murdered her just like I was told every day before...because the fucking Prophet said so." Rebecca buried her face in her hands not because she was crying, but because she had to hold something or smash something.
"The Prophet it filled with lies." McGonagall said forcefully, walking to Rebecca and grabbing her shoulders tightly. "It is nothing more than a glorified gossip column at this point. But this? Reacting like this? You are giving those lies power over you." McGonagall squeezed Rebecca's shoulders, lowering her voice gently. "And you are stronger than that."
When McGonagall let go of Rebecca and walked the two women walked back to Harry, McGonagall was frowning. "I hardly know what's become of you two this year so far, but I know I don't like it. I know you can be better--You are better." McGonagall grabbed the note off of her desk and shook it at them. "You're both to report to her office tonight and every other of this week."
Harry's head shot up. "But we have quidditch tryouts on Friday!"
"Perhaps you two should think about things like that before you get yourselves into situations like this." McGonagall motioned for them to leave, their conversation was done.
*******************************************
"Good evening." Professor Umbridge said smugly as she gestured to the two desks she had set up in front of hers in her office. Rebecca looked at their surroundings warily, the walls coated in pink, fluffy wallpaper and decorative plates lined up and meowing around the room.
"Good evening, professor." Harry choked out. He and Rebecca had had a battle of wills, so to speak, as to who should be the one to ask for a modification of their punishment. "About out detention-"
"You'd like to be let off for the final day--Friday--so you can go to your quidditch tryout." Umbridge finished for him, lifting her teacup to her mouth and sipping it.
"Yes," Harry answered shocked. "Exactly."
"No." Umbridge's lips twisted around the word as if she were savouring it.
Rebecca clenched her fists, Harry repeating the answer. "No?"
Umbridge nodded. "No. Perhaps missing out on something that matters to the both of you will remedy those attitudes!" Umbridge reached into a drawer of her desk and took out two black quills and two scrolls of parchment. "You're going to be doing some lines for me today.
Rebecca fumed at her desk. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to send herself somewhere else--somewhere happier. "Think...think...Perhaps we're up in Fred and George's dorm...Cauldron's going, sweet wrappers being filled...It's nice...Calm...Fred is-"
"Miss Potter!" Umbridge spoke loudly from behind her. "Daydreaming hardly necessitates as punishment!"
Rebecca looked straight ahead. "Potter Weasley. I know two words can be complicated when one is placed directly after another, but-"
Umbridge slammed Rebecca's quill down on the desk in front of her, the scroll coming right after. "You're going to write, 'I must not tell lies.'"
"How many times?" Harry asked as his scroll and quill were set down without the bang of his twins.
"Let's say..." Umbridge smirked. "As long as it takes for the message to sink in."
Rebecca picked up the quill and spun it between her fingers boredly. "You haven't given us any ink."
"You won't need any ink." Umbridge said, turning and smiling out the window. "These are very special quills of mine." Harry and Rebecca rolled their eyes at each other before putting the quills against the parchment and beginning their task.
Rebecca and Harry both saw how the words they wrote onto the parchment came out in red ink, dark red ink. Harry hissed and shook out his hand while Rebecca looked at the red lines forming.
"Is there something either of you wishes to say?" Umbridge asked, turning away from the window to walk back between their desks.
Rebecca looked up from her hand, at her own handwriting that had been cut into her skin, and cocked her head to the side. "Nothing at all."
"That's right." Umbridge stared down at her. "You know that deep down, you deserve to be punished, don't you, Miss Potter?" Rebecca grit her teeth and said nothing else. "Go on then, keep writing."
Rebecca and Harry suffered on in silence, the blood pooling in their cuts and dripping down their hands long before Umbridge decided they were done.
*******************************************
Harry and Rebecca knew they couldn't return to the common room as they were when they were released from Umbridge's office--pale faced and bloody-handed. Rebecca followed Harry into the boy's lavatory without a word, not wanting to leave him alone or be alone herself.
Harry didn't mind, in fact he was grateful for the notion. After his twenty-fifth line, his hand stopped burning and had turned into a dull throb. Each word after brought the pain higher and higher up in his arm until it felt that his very brain was being engraved with the words.
Rebecca turned on the cold water and braced herself, gripping the marble sink and holding her hand under the softly-spraying stream silently. The water ran off a dark brownish red. Rebecca kept her eyes closed and breathed through the pain, grabbing the soap and rubbing it onto the sides of her hand where the blood had crusted and wouldn't rinse off on its own. Touching even the side of her hand sent pins of agony up her arm.
Harry was in a similar position at the sink next to her, grunting in pain until he finally turned the water off and looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn't pale, not any more. The pain had brightened his cheeks and he wiped away the tears that had unwillingly welled in his arms before Rebecca could see them.
The two of them dried their hands gingerly before tucking them under their robe sleeves.
They walked to the common room in silence, neither planning on telling any of the others what had happened in their detentions. As the portrait hole swung open, Hermione turned away from Ron and his begging. "Please, Hermione! I've been studying for these O.W.L. prep assignments for hours!"
"Fine, I'll do the introduction. That's all though." Hermione smiled lightly, enjoying the flood of compliments that she knew would follow.
"Honestly, Hermione," Ron put his head back against the couch and closed his eyes in relief. "You're the most wonderful person I've ever met."
Harry and Rebecca stayed together as they entered, seeing Fred and George off in a corner finishing a transaction with a student.
Hermione patted the couch between her and Ron, wanting to know if asking about Friday's rescheduling had gone well and hoping that both Potters would be more talkative than they had been as of late. It felt like ages since the last time she had had a conversation with either of them, despite the fact that dinner had been only a few hours before.
Harry sat and folded his hand in his lap, tucking the back of his detention-injured underneath.
"So? Friday?" Hermione asked.
Harry scowled at the topic being brought back up. His pain had forced quidditch from his thoughts. "No. She says that missing out on something that matters to us is an additional punishment."
Ron groaned. "Bollocks, mate! Here's the Transfiguration homework, at least." Ron leaned in front of Harry and lowered his voice to whisper to Rebecca. "It's for you too, Becs."
"I can hear you Ron." Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "And I would have made sure hers was finished anyway. Did you really think I wouldn't have been able to hear you?"
Fred and George made their way to where they were, leaning over the back of the couch to put their heads on either sides of Rebecca's. Harry reached for Ron's homework and skimmed through it, not thinking about hiding his hand.
"What's wrong with your hand?" Hermione demanded instantly.
Harry tried to play dumb and checked the back of his other one, hiding his injury again.
"Not that one, your other hand!" Hermione grabbed Harry's hand gently and turned it over, seeing the fresh cuts and the words they spell out. "You've got to tell Dumbledore!"
"No." Rebecca answered. "Dumbledore's got enough on his mind right now, he doesn't need the two of us whinging at him as all."
Fred reached forward from behind the couch and grabbed Rebecca's wrist, turning her hand so that her injuries were revealed as well. "I'll go myself then, especially if you won't." His voice was thick. "No one gets to do this to you, no one!"
"No!" Harry argued. "We're not giving Umbridge the satisfaction."
Rebecca stood up from the couch with all of its arguing and walked away, though Fred followed behind her, speaking in hushed tones.
"The woman is torturing you two!" Ron said to Harry, his anger rivalling Fred's. Hermione saw Ron in a different light as he was so upset, a more mature, caring light. "If the parents knew about this-"
"We haven't got any of those, now do we Ron?"
George shook his head and pointed at Harry with one hand, the other grabbing Ron's forearm and trying to calm him down. "That's not true and you know it, don't be a prat. If Rebecca heard you say that she'd-"
"What? She'd what?" Harry challenged, looking across the room to the corner of the common room where Fred was gesturing wildly while talking to Rebecca.
The group on the chat fell into a tense silence, a silence broken by Hermione a few moments later. "You've got to report this. It's perfectly simple, you're being-"
"No, it's not." Harry said brokenly. "Hermione, whatever this is, it's not simple." He rolled the parchment and stood up. "You don't understand."
Hermione was taken aback. "Then help us too!"
Harry only shook his head and left the three of them--Hermione, Ron, and George--on the couch. He went up the stairs and to his room without another word.
Rebecca shook her head at Fred as he repeated his intention of reporting Umbridge. "Fred!" Fred looked at her expectantly. "I'm not reporting anything! It doesn't even hurt, okay?"
Fred grabbed her hand and held it up to the light, even the slight turning of her hand making the fresh cuts smart horribly. "You're lying to me! Why are you doing this?"
Rebecca yanked her hand back, holding it to her chest. "No, why are you doing this?" She shook her head, looking down at the floor in front of her and standing her ground. "Just leave it alone, Fred. I'm not an infant."
"No," Fred crossed his arms. "No, you're so grown up you're letting a professor torture you--a professor abuse you--and you won't do anything for fear of what, exactly? Afraid of being seen as weak? Is that it?"
Rebecca stepped towards him and met his eyes, her eyes burning brightly. "I'm afraid of nothing." She turned away to leave and paused a moment. "I would trust your judgement enough, if this were you."
Fred scoffed and caught her other hand, turning her back towards him. "That is a lie and you know it. You would never watch someone hurt me, just as I won't you."
"What choice do you have?" Rebecca asked. "I'm not going to back down from a few little cuts, from a little bit of blood. This is nothing!"
Fred furrowed his brow, her words hurting him to an extent he wasn't sure if he had hurt before. "You're going to make me watch? Watch on, stay silent, and do nothing as you're hurting? As you are being hurt?" He was quiet a moment before letting her hand go. "Is that something you would really be able to do if the roles were reversed."
Rebecca knew the answer immediately--fuck no. But this hadn't changed her mind in the slightest. "I'm not reporting this. I'm going to bed."
Fred watched her walk away and stop at the first stair where she paused and walked back to him quickly.
"Good night." She whispered. "I love you." Her voice had lost the edge it had before.
Fred put his hands on her shoulders before bringing her into his arms. "I love you, too." He kissed the top of her head. "Do you still have the salve from when you burnt your fingers?" Rebecca shook her head. She had given it to one of the Gryffindor girls after a class with the Blast-Ended Skrewts had left someone's leg singed. "I'll get some more then. Rebecca," Fred waited until her eyes met his before continuing. "Promise me that if it gets worse, you'll report it."
Rebecca stared into his eyes, seeing the concern, the worry, the love.
Fred watched something inside of her change, something shut itself away from him like a wall had fallen down or a switch had been flipped.
"I'll do as I deem fit." Rebecca muttered before going up the stairs at last.
Fred joined the others on the couch in an identical state of worry and confusion. "What is happening to them?" Hermione asked Fred. "To us? They don't keep things from us, not usually."
George moved closer to Ron so that Fred could take a seat and sighed. "I think it's that damn Prophet. It's certainly not helping anything, at least."
Fred nodded sharply. "And Umbridge. I can't wait for our first class with her tomorrow now."
Ron looked away from the fire quickly. "Don't go doing anything mental." He warned his older brothers, knowing exactly along what lines their thoughts were going. "They've said what they've said, no one's reporting this for them."
"How can you say that?" Hermione asked shocked, looking at the rest of them and seeing the same opinion on all of their faces. "How can we sit here and do nothing?"
Fred was the only person to speak in the silence that came after Hermione's question. "Because that's what they have asked us to do."
*******************************************
"Both of you?!" Angelina shouted at breakfast days later. "How am I supposed to have tryouts if two members are off serving detention?"
"We asked if it could be rescheduled, but she said-" Harry's explanation was cut off.
"You two need to pull it together, do you understand me?" Angelina was furious with them. "I'm in charge of the team now. We're defending the cup, for Merlin's sake! We need to be on the same page and certainly not off on a crusade that's costing points!"
Harry and Rebecca looked down at their plates, silent until Angelina had to take a breath and found she had nothing else to say to the two of them. Angelina left them quickly, pausing only to point at Fred and George who were just entering the Great Hall, to warn them not to do anything stupid do land themselves in detention, too.
Fred sat next to Rebecca as he did every morning, setting a small tin on the table beside her discreetly. "For pain and to avoid infection." He said softly.
Rebecca opened the tin and found a salve inside, one that she applied to the back of her hand instantly. She didn't know how it could possibly hurt more, but two more days of detention had only made the cuts deeper. "Thank you." Rebecca put the lid back on and saw its name: Stubborn Salve--soothes even the most stubborn with a mixture of magic and care. "Did you two make this last night?" Rebecca asked, looking between Fred and George.
"Not just the two of us, at least." George admitted with a slight shrug.
Hermione beamed from down the table, Ron smiling similarly. "But we had nothing to do with the name, that was all them."
"Oh yeah," Ron echoed. "All of those two, don't link me in."
Fred and George looked around as if they had no idea who they could be talking about. "Who? Not us, certainly."
Fred leaned closer to Rebecca, laying his head on her shoulder. "Our marketing master had already retired for the night."
Rebecca took another bite of her breakfast, eventually feeling something inside of her unclench long enough to let her head rest against Fred's for a few minutes.
Hermione reached into her bag and pulled another flyer out of her bag, setting it on the table between prefect and trifecta of trouble-makers. "The next time I see one of these, I'm enchanting it to say you're offering homework help."
Harry put Angelina's words behind him and listened as his friends chatted on, ignoring the pit inexplicably growing in his stomach and trying to find comfort in their presence.
*******************************************
Professor Grubbly-Plank had been trying to gauge what creatures they had managed to go over the year before with a few students at the front of their class.
Draco stood at the back and spoke loudly. "My father says even if that dull oaf returns from his leave, he's apt to get the sack straight away!"
Rebecca turned to tell him off for bad mouthing Hagrid, but Ron stepped to the side and blocked her view of Draci. "You don't want to do this, not with Malfoy."
Hermione watched Harry's jaw clench, he just as angry as Rebecca. "Harry? Hagrid wouldn't want you to do this." She slipped her arm through his and kept him facing the front of the class.
Ron put his hand on Rebecca's shoulder and turned her to the front as well, leaving his arm around her. He hoped the reminder that he was there for her would keep her from losing it. When Professor Grubbly-Plank had finally decided what they would work on first, Rebecca had managed to force her heart back to a normal pace and her anger to a manageable level.
*******************************************
The end of Friday's detention brought an end to Rebecca and Harry's sentence, both of them having managed to contain any further outbursts at Umbridge's theoretical and therefore, useless, classwork. "I hope that this will serve as a reminder for the both of you," Umbridge said smugly. "One mustn't tell lies, after all."
Harry and Rebecca left her office, cradling their hands the second the door had closed behind them. The two of them had made a routine for after detentions they stuck to one last time, stopping at the bathroom and washing their hands together quietly. Then, they would take the most direct route back to the common room and retreat to their rooms for the rest of the evening.
Waiting at the top of the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, Fred had found company with his thoughts. He had let Rebecca have a week, a long, lonely week where he had watched her shut herself off. But he couldn't give her any longer.
"I think you should spend time out of your room tonight." Harry said as they began to climb the stairs.
"That's rich!" Rebecca said with a humourless laugh. "You've hardly spent a minute out of yours, why should I?"
"Because we're different!" Harry answered loudly.
Rebecca knew what Harry was talking about, whom he was talking about. Fred's own quietness the past week had become known and noticed by all. "I've seen how they all look at me, Harry." Rebecca's voice was tight. "They all see me as dangerous and I won't-"
"You're being stupid."
"You know, the other girls?" Rebecca hadn't even heard Harry. "They go back into their rooms if they're in the hallway when I step out of my room..." Something inside of her was pulled to the point that it might break. "I'm keeping Fred from a nutter."
"No, you're just keeping him from an idiot." Harry stopped a stair behind Rebecca and grabbed the sleeve of her robe, forcing her to turn and look at him. "A true and total idiot. What is it you've told me so many times before? 'Get my head out of my arse?' Take a page from your own book and-"
Rebecca blinked and a second later, Harry was against the side of the stairs across from her. She'd shoved him, hard. "Harry! I'm sorry!" Rebecca apologised immediately, hurrying to help him back to his feet. "I'm so sorry, I-"
Harry righted himself, waiting to respond until he had pummeled his own rage back into submission. "I'm fine, it's not a big deal."
"I just-I wouldn't have." Rebecca said softly, continuing forward when Harry motioned for her too. "I am really-"
"Rebecca!" Harry said sharply, silencing her. "It was a shove, not anything more. Just stop already." Harry caught eyes with Fred, seeing how the older boy was lingering outside the portrait of the Fat Lady for Rebecca, and continued into the common room without another word. He wasn't sure he could get any more to come out without shouting.
"Hey." Fred said, waving. "I didn't-I thought maybe we could go on a walk."
"I'm really not-"
"Rebecca..." Fred said her name with so much exhaustion, emotional primarily, she couldn't argue. "I want to go back to the hall from last year, the one with the magic door."
"It wasn't the door." Rebecca said after they had made their way a while. "It's the room that's enchanted."
Fred hid his smile, he couldn't keep it away entirely. Not when it felt like it had been a hundred years since she had last corrected him. "Alright then, this should be where the enchanted room is. Anything you want in particular?"
Rebecca shrugged. To go home? To go back in time? To go away and never come back? None of these were thoughts she would share aloud, not even to Fred. Not yet, at least, as they were still in the hallway.
Fred thought for a moment. The door that appeared in front of them was wooden and painted happily. He held it open for Rebecca to go in first and the room inside had a fire going and a coat rack by the door, a large daybed under a wide window. "Woah," He breathed, looking around as he closed the door behind him. "This is nice, yeah?"
Rebecca left her top robe at the door, kicking her shoes off too. Her hand smarted horribly and when she looked at it, it was clear that she had torn the fresh cuts open when she had shoved Harry.
Fred opened the box that appeared near the fire and brought it to where Rebecca sat herself on the edge of the bed. "May I see?" Rebecca held her hand out and Fred frowned. "We'll stop the bleeding and then put some salve on it, if that's alright?"
"That's alright." Rebecca said quietly. "I'm sorry."
"Since you haven't done anything to be sorry about, I have to ask if you've hit your head tonight." Fred said with a tease.
"I'm not playing, Fred. I can't." Rebecca winced as he dabbed at her cuts. "Not when-"
"When everything's gone to hell as it has every year?" Fred finished drily.
"This year feels different." Rebecca shook her head. "This year is different."
"Not between us it isn't." Fred closed the box and set it on the floor, hopping onto the bed and sitting near the top. "It'll never change with us, not ever."
Rebecca didn't join him yet, though he held his arm out for her to lay against him as she had frequently before. "You were there Monday, you saw what I did."
"What you-" Fred furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused. "You punched a bully. You hit someone who was asking for it, someone who deserved it!"
"That's not the problem!" Rebecca cried, flinching at her tone. Now she was lashing out at the one person in the world she had never, ever wanted to. "That's not the point." She kept her eyes from him, filled with shame as she continued. "I didn't want to stop. I wanted to hit her again and again. How can things not change between us when I could have done that?"
"But you didn't." Fred said after thinking. "You didn't. You warned her what would happen if she said that again and you didn't hit her again and again--you hit her once. You're not giving yourself enough credit, RJ! That's more than most people could have done." Fred reached for her unmarked hand and held it between both of his. "Far more than I could have done; I don't care that you hit her."
"You should." Rebecca's voice cracked, the tears welling in her eyes as her feelings were forced to be faced. "I don't know how you can look at me the same after that."
Fred let go of her hands and moved forward on his knees, cupping her cheeks so that he could wipe her escaping tears with his thumbs. "Love, how could I not look at you the same?"
It was the last notch of the rope that had kept Rebecca hanging.
"Oh my silly love," Fred said with a sad smile before leading Rebecca up the bed with him. "You're still the same person, the very one I love! You just...feel things deeply, it's one of your greatest qualities." Rebecca fit against Fred's sides like the groove of a key into a lock, perfectly. Fred continued to speak as he held her through her tears. "No one on earth would have acted differently than you did."
Awareness dawned on Fred and his heart skipped a beat.
"This isn't why you've been so distant, has it love? Because you thought I would think of you differently?" Rebecca nodded and found herself moved gently. Fred scooped her up onto his lap so that her head lay against his shoulder and she was entirely enveloped by his arms. "For Merlin's sake, I thought I had upset you."
Rebecca shook her head, holding her hand to his chest. "How could you ever?"
"I can try, if you'd like." Fred offered and was met by a teary giggle. "Now the world can go on, I've heard you laugh at me again." She laughed a little harder, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve.
A silence filled the space between them, but not the cold silence of the week before. It was comfortable, warm. This silence was periodically broken by the occasional sniffle or whisper, but for the most part endured.
"I guess," Rebecca said quietly. "I thought that everything the Prophet was saying would also have...changed me to you."
Fred's eyes widened. "All those wild lies? Love, they could never." Fred chuckled. "Like you really stole a horse or..." Rebecca's guilty look made his voice slow before trailing away. "Or set fire to a school."
Rebecca looked down. "I have no idea how they learned about Horace, I've never told a soul."
Fred blinked. "I assume 'Horace' is a horse."
"Yes, because-"
"I get it. Wordplay." Fred said quickly, still a little confused. "So you did steal a horse?"
"It wasn't like that!" Rebecca said quickly. "He was-Horrible people owned him. Horrible, horrible people who shouldn't have had a fish, let alone a horse." Rebecca toyed with his untied tie, unable to keep her hands still as Fred heard the story no one had ever heard before. "They'd do awful things to make him work and were always...talking about bringing him to a glue factory. There was a farm an hour drive from Caterham so I-well, I brought him there."
"You rode a horse, left him at a farm, and then what?" Fred asked curiously. This story was so Rebecca. "Walked back?"
"Obviously." Rebecca replied. "Can't quite ride the horse back and leave him safe, could I?"
"Wait, had you ever ridden a horse before?" Fred followed up.
"That's your question?" Rebecca was shocked. "I tell you this story about how I've always been the thief I was when I-"
"No." Fred said quickly, holding her tighter. "Don't even say that. Don't think it, either." He laid his head against the top of hers. "If you have a reason, a need that you cannot fill any way else, then you are not a thief. Yes, that is my question. My only question."
"No, I hadn't." Rebecca said after a moment. "I think he knew I was trying to help him. That, or that anything I could do to him wouldn't have been worse than where he was."
"I love you." Fred said, kissing her forehead. "Let me guess, did you set fire to the school to save something else?"
Rebecca blushed. "Oh no, I didn't set that fire. The other kids..." She tried to find a gentle way to word the trouble that state school had been for her. "They thought it was fun to mess with me, I guess. They'd only meant to light my bag, but it spread and they blamed me anyway." Rebecca tried to keep the hell she had to pay for their stunt at home out of her thoughts and failed.
Fred's lips found Rebecca's. He kissed her gently, but with intention. He needed her to know that with these stories, without these stories, he was the same Fred and she the same Rebecca. As long as they were together, there was nothing they couldn't handle. Rebecca kissed him back, feeling these thoughts and realising that this was the best she had felt all week. Even if the school wanted to sift her out of the others, put her under some horrible microscope, he would be by her side.
They stayed in the room well into the evening, leaving only when Fred was afraid that she would fall asleep against him and he would have to wake her up to get her back to the tower.
"We're okay, my love?" Fred asked in the long-emptied common room.
"We're okay."
*******************************************
<3