A Little Bit of Love and Laughter

"Has anyone seen Roger, perchance?" I asked, glancing around the Great Hall. I had already searched the common room and sent a boy from my Charms class up to check the boys' dormitory, but to no avail.

Then I saw it – the Beauxbatons girl against the wall with Roger leaning over her, their lips interlocked – and my mind went blank. I stood in shocked silence, watching, waiting as Roger turned to me, and his eyes met mine. I ran, without another thought, straight out the double doors, my face buried in my hands, my heart aching with the pain of betrayal. Even once I passed the Quidditch pitch, I didn't stop running; I couldn't.

How had everything gone so wrong? How had this affair happened right under my nose? And why to me? Why when everything had seemed so great? Why Roger? Why her? Just... why? The more I thought about it, the less sense it seemed to make.

"Em?" a warm, familiar voice called. "Emily!"

And I was pulled into the comforting embrace of none other than Mr. Fred Weasley.

"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning my head gently into his chest, allowing my tears to seep through his shirt.

"Of course," I replied sarcastically between sobs. "Judging by the tears—"

"What happened?"

My voice trembled against the tears caught in my throat as I told him what I had seen and made an attempt to put words to what I felt. This feeling was also indescribable but in a much different way. When I finished, I wailed again, "I give up."

"Don’t."

"Fred, you don't understand."

He lifted my chin so that my puffy, bloodshot eyes were looking into his. "Oh, don't I? I don’t understand the heart-shattering pain that results from watching someone you've loved for so long walk away and into someone else's arms? I don't understand how much it hurts to hold back silent tears at night when you think about how much you regret letting her get away? And I don't understand how hard it is to wake up the next day and smile and pretend that everything's all right? Of course, I don't understand. You're right."

"I – I – Fred... I'm so sorry." I had known right away that he had been referring to our situation, to the pain that I had put him through. The hurt look in his eyes had shown me that immediately. He did understand, probably better than did I.

He seemed to shake the thoughts of his own ache out of his mind. "With what he's done to you, Em, I could kill him. With my own bare hands, I could kill him, that bloody git."

"You don't need to do that. He's not worth it." I paused and looked up at him again, sniffling away the remaining tears rolling down my cheeks. "Just tell me that you care and that you hate seeing me hurt."

"Why would I be here if I didn't?"

There was a hint of a smile that appeared on my face. "You're the best, Fred. The absolute best."

"I just still don't see how he could've had the nerve to—" I cut him off.

"How about we just drop it forever? I don’t want to care about it anymore. I'm done letting him get to me." I hated that I was just a stupid, little love-struck schoolgirl who fell for the player's game.

"You don't have to be so strong all the time, you know," he said. "Sometimes it's better to just break down and cry once in a while."

I shook my head, thinking back on my other repressed memories. Oliver. My dad. "It's just... better this way, trust me. It always has been."