Whispers in the Dark-Fred Weasley

Chapter Twenty-Two

Above the noise, I hear a familiar voice. "Malfoy!"

My head snaps up instinctively, my heart sinking as Fred Weasley pushes through the crowd, his face a mask of confusion and anger. He stops a few feet away, his eyes scanning me quickly before narrowing on Cedric.

"What the hell happened to her?" Fred demands, his voice low and dangerous. Cedric opens his mouth to respond, but Fred cuts him off, taking a step closer. "What were you thinking, letting her get dragged into this?"

"I didn't—" Cedric starts, but Fred's glare intensifies, and he wisely shuts his mouth.

"Fred, stop," I manage, my voice hoarse and trembling. "It wasn't him."

Fred's gaze flicks to mine, his jaw tightening as his eyes soften just a fraction. For a moment, he looks like he wants to argue, but then he exhales sharply, running a hand through his wet hair. "Come on," he says gruffly, offering me a hand. "Let's get you out of here before you freeze."

I hesitate, my pride warring with my exhaustion, but my body makes the choice for me. My hand slips into his, and he pulls me to my feet, his grip firm and steady as he leads me toward the warmth of the castle.

As we walk away, I can feel Cedric's eyes on my back, but I don't look back. My chest burns with anger, humiliation, and something else I can't name. Fred doesn't say a word as he guides me toward the castle, his hand steady on my arm. For once, his silence is comforting. And for the first time since I woke up in that cursed lake, I don't feel entirely alone.

...

The warmth of the Gryffindor common room does little to stop the relentless trembling that racks my body. My wet robes cling to me like a second skin, and Fred's oversized coat draped over my shoulders feels both too heavy and not enough to fight the cold that's settled deep in my bones. Each step I take leaves a small puddle in my wake, a trail of water marking my path from the portrait hole. The fire crackles in the hearth, the sound soothing, but the tension in the room is palpable.

Fred walks a step ahead of me, glancing back every few seconds. His face is uncharacteristically serious, the usual smirk replaced by something...softer. Worry, maybe. It's a look I'm not used to seeing on him, and I hate the way it makes my chest tighten.

"You don't have to do this," I murmur, my voice shaking as much as my body. I stop in the middle of the room, forcing him to turn and face me. "You could've stayed out there. Watched the rest of the task." My words are weak, lacking the usual venom I reserve for him.

Fred's brows knit together, and for a moment, he just stares at me. Then he shrugs, leaning casually against the armrest of a nearby couch, though there's nothing casual about the tension in his shoulders. "Could've," he says simply, "but I didn't."

I blink at him, confused. "Why?"

He exhales, running a hand through his damp hair, which is still tousled from the spray of the lake. "Because, Malfoy," he starts, his tone biting but not cruel, "someone had to make sure you didn't keel over from hypothermia. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be Cedric."

The mention of Cedric stings, and I flinch involuntarily. Fred notices, of course he does, and his eyes narrow slightly, like he's trying to piece something together.

"I'm fine," I say, though my chattering teeth betray me. I tighten his coat around my shoulders, pulling it closer like it's a shield. "You can go back now."

Fred lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "You're impossible, you know that? You nearly drowned in that bloody lake, and you're still trying to brush it off like it's nothing."