LATIBULE - F.WEASLEY

13

Despite not knowing what Fred had seen, she launched herself into his arms, sobbing silently. Fred's hand comes to the back of her head, holding the witch tightly.

She was trembling more violently than Fred had ever seen her and now he understood why. He had heard every word and seen the terror in Maggie's eyes as her father threatened her. The wizard pulls out his wand and taps it against Maggie's throat.

"Oh my god, I'm going to Azkaban," Maggie pulls away and clutches her chest. "I'll rot in there-"

"Why would you go to Azkaban?"

"You're going to tell the Ministry and I-"

"Maggie," Fred places his hands on either side of her face. "I'm not going to tell anyone okay?"

"What?" Maggie whispers.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Fred repeats himself. "Not even George. But I have to ask, is what he said true? He used the-"

"Yes," Maggie answers the question before it's fully spoken.

"So the tremors, that day in the classroom? It's all because of your father? The bruises?"

"The bruises weren't just my father," Maggie clears her throat awkwardly. "My grandfather is very old-fashioned in his punishments"

"Your grandfather?!"

"Only when I speak out of line," Maggie rushes out. "He believes I should be seen and not heard"

"Maggie, that's not okay," Fred pushes a strand of hair back from her face. "You're not a doll, you're a human being. You are allowed thoughts and opinions"

"Not according to my grandfather," Maggie laughs but it's hollow and humourless.

"When you were on about the prize money taking you far away-"

"I'm going to run," Maggie nods. "Or at least find somewhere out of my grandfather's reach"

"I can speak to my mother," Fred says. "She collects children like she doesn't already have seven"

"But your father's position in the Ministry-"

"My father won't care. After that night at the Quidditch World Cup my dad was so worried for you," Fred informs the witch.

"Your dad is so sweet," Maggie smiles. "At Ministry events, he makes me feel seen. As a person, not a rare jewel being displayed for the night. We discuss muggle-made inventions a lot. He's particularly interested in-"

"Rubber ducks?" Fred guesses and Maggie nods. "Was it you that purchased him the one that was designed to look like a wizard?"

"I did,"

"It sits on a shelf in our living room," Fred laughs and Maggie smiles softly. "He's obsessed with it"

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Maggie sits cross-legged on Fred's bed, wearing one of his jumpers, a pair of Fred's shorts and some fluffy socks, as she explains the entire story.

Fred was listening attentively, holding her hands in his. When Maggie would tremble more as she told certain parts of her story, Fred would gently rub his thumb on the back of her hand.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I mean there's not much left to know," Maggie smiles weakly with tear-stained cheeks.

"You don't eat, why is that?"

"My grandfather has always drilled into me about perfection," Maggie murmurs. "If I looked like I had gained a modicum of weight, he would give me slimming potions. He would give me appetite suppressors and eventually, I didn't need them anymore"

"Your grandfather sounds like a dickhead,"

"A little bit," Maggie laughs quietly. "I think he cares in his own way"

Fred could feel his heartbreaking for Maggie. The witch had come up with a coping mechanism to rationalise the abuse she was facing from her grandfather and her Azkaban escapee father.

"That's not caring, Maggie," Fred says softly. "That's control, and it's not anything that can be explained away as caring in their own way"

"Do you want to hear something hilarious?" Maggie changes the subject. "In the Slytherin Common Room, they have a rankings board with notes for each of the girls. Mine is hot but broken, easier to lure into bed"

"That's vile," Fred shakes his head.

"My grandfather told me it was just boys being boys," Maggie shrugs.

"You can stay here tonight," Fred squeezes Maggie's hands.

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"You can," Fred states, grabbing the tub of paste before beginning to massage it into her hands.

The boy sits back, close to the edge of the bed, allowing Maggie to put her head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair, noting how soft the blonde strands were.

"Hey," Maggie says, causing Fred to look down at her. "Do you ever wonder if birds are afraid to fly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well everyone is scared of something," Maggie murmurs. "It's believable a bird could be scared of taking that risk"

"So, would it be the same for turtles being scared of water because they are born on land?"

"Possibly," Maggie hums thoughtfully as she sits upright, placing her hand on Fred's face.

"Maggie, what are you doing?" Fred asks as the witch leans in.

Maggie's reply comes as a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

"I just want to feel loved," She confesses, her words hanging in the air like a plea. "Can you give me that for tonight?"

Fred, understanding the depth of her longing, nods his head in agreement. Without hesitation, Maggie closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. Her eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the moment's intensity.

In response, Fred brings his hand up to the back of Maggie's head, cradling her gently as he reciprocates her kiss. Their connection deepens, and the world fades away as they allow the overwhelming wave of emotions and desire to wash over them, their own personal sanctuary in that stolen moment.