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Fred lingered a second more before he made up his mind, the only way to clear his head was to get so drunk that he wouldn't be able to remember this night, and everything would go back to normal.
Fred stumbled through the corridors, and the entrance to the Slytherin common room, his mind buzzing with frustration and confusion. He didn't know what else to do, so he went straight for the drinks. If there was one thing that could help him forget this mess, it was alcohol.
He spotted a large bowl filled with some questionable concoction and grabbed a cup, pouring himself a full glass. Without hesitation, he downed it in one go, the burning
Another drink.
Then another.
Soon enough, his feelings started to fade away.
The room was filled with students from all houses, although there was less now than there was earlier.
The music making the walls vibrate. Fred could hear cheers as someone spotted him downing drink after drink. A group of Hufflepuffs, led by Cedric Diggory, made their way over, laughing and clapping him on the back.
"Fred, leave some to the rest of us." Cedric teased, his own cup raised high. The others laughed along with him, egging Fred on.
"Cheers, mate," Fred slurred, his words already losing clarity as he poured himself another glass. He knocked it back, barely flinching at the taste. His head was spinning, but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.
George was standing by, leaning against a wall with his friends. He watched with a concerned expression on his face as he watched Fred pour drink after drink down his throat. The more Fred tried to numb himself, the louder the cheers around him grew, and the more out of control it all felt.
Even Angelina was cheering him on with her friends, with a sharp gaze. It was almost like she wanted him to drink himself to death.
After a while, people were heading out, some where only beginning to party harder. There was around eighteen students left, all of them above year five. Some Slytherins were starting to clean the common room throughout.
Fred words were almost inaudible, and his posture was unsteady. He laughed, leaning heavily on Cedric at one point, before pushing himself away and stumbling back toward the drinks.
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"Alright, Fred, that's enough," George muttered to himself under his breath, pushing through the crowd towards his brother. Fred was in his own world, lost in a haze of alcohol, frustration, and that strange feeling that had been gnawing at him since earlier that night.
He grabbed yet another drink, a bottle of gin this time, but before he could get it to his lips, George stepped in and yanked the glass away.
"Oi, what're you doing?" Fred slurred, glaring at his brother, though his eyes struggled to focus.
George didn't answer right away. Instead, he grabbed Fred by the arm, forcefully pulling him away from the group, much to the disappointment of the students who had been cheering him on. Fred tried to resist, but he was too far gone, barely able to stand on his own.
"Alright, party's over for you," George said firmly, guiding his half dazed brother out of the common room and into the dimly lit corridors of the school.
Fred muttered something incoherent as he draped his arm over George's shoulders for support. His head bent over and his steps were uneven as they walked. George was practically carrying him down the hall.
"Y'know, Georgie, it's all messed up," Fred mumbled, his words a mess, but George could tell there was something heavier behind them. He didn't know if it was the alcohol talking, or if Fred had really been struggling with something lately.
"What's messed up?" George asked, though he already had a feeling he knew where this was going.
Fred mumbled again, barely audible. "Lyra."
George's eyebrows shot up. "Lyra?" he repeated, trying to get a clearer answer.
Fred lifted his head slightly, his face flushed from the drinking and his eyes were glossy. "I can't stop thinking about her, bloody Slytherin. It's messing with my head," he whispered in a slurred tone, although this time his words clearer, but filled with confusion and frustration.
George's eyes widened in surprise. "Lyra Ivana Arakan? That's who you've been on about?"
Fred let out a bitter laugh, slumping even more against his brother. "Yeah, and I know it's stupid. She drives me mad, mate, but, tonight, I don't know. Something's different."
George was silent for a moment, processing what Fred had just said. He had suspected something was going on with his brother and Lyra for a while now, but hearing Fred admit it like this made it all real. And it was more complicated than just some rivalry on the Quidditch pitch or a few petty insults.
"Fred." George started, unsure of what to say. "You're drunk, mate. You're not thinking straight." He smiled slightly.
"I am thinking straight," Fred insisted with a stern tone, his voice thick with frustration. "It's her. It's always her. And I don't even know why."
George huffed in dissbeliefment. "You're drunk, Fred-"
"It's not just the drinks, George," Fred spat back. "It's her. It's always her. It's been her."
George paused for a moment, glancing over at his brother, who was clearly struggling to keep his thoughts straight. "You really mean it?" George asked.
"Of course I mean it, you know I would never joke about this." Fred slurred, shaking his head as if it was obvious. "It's always been her, driving me crazy."
They continued walking, or rather, George continued to drag Fred through the corridors until they finally reached a quieter hallway.
"You know what's the worst part?" Fred suddenly asked, his voice a bit clearer as if he was trying to make sense of it all himself.
"What's the worst part, Fred?" George smirked, humouring himself, though curiosity flickered in his tone.
Fred sighed a long and exhausted sigh. "I crave it. The insults. The sarcasm. And when she's not in class with me. When she's not there, throwing those snide little comments at me..." He paused, his voice thick with frustration. "It's like something's missing, mate. I miss her."
George blinked, surprised at the admission. "You, miss her? Like, miss her annoying you?"
Fred let out a croaked laugh, sliding his hand down his face. "Yeah, I know it sounds mental, but it's true. When she's not there, sneering at me or making some stupid comment about me, or saying something that makes me want to throw my broom at her, I feel off. Like something's wrong." He slurred between breaths.
George shook his head slightly, not quite understanding. "So, you enjoy her insults? You actually like her winding you up?"
Fred groaned "I don't know if I enjoy it. It's more like I need it. I'm used to it, and when she's not there everything feels grey and white. Like the world's quieter without her voice in it. I don't lie when I say she annoys the hell out of me though, because she do."
He paused, looking down at the stone floor as they walked. "I wait for it. Every day. In class, in the corridors, in the great hall, on the pitch. I wait for her to say something. And when she doesn't, like recently, or when she's not there it's like..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "Like I'm missing a part of myself, mate. And I hate it."
George stopped, turning to face his brother fully, studying him with a furrowed brow. "Fred, do you even hear yourself? You sound obsessed."
Fred huffed, a grim smug smile playing on his lips. "I am. But what can I do, she's like a bloody itch I can't scratch, and it's driving me mad. She's an itch I can't scratch, but tonight I was so close, which made the itching even worse. Now I have to itch it." Fred trailed off.
George laughed by his brothers choice of words. He had known something was going on between Fred and Lyra, but this was deeper than he'd thought.
Much deeper.
"So you're telling me you actually fancy her?" George asked.
Fred scoffed. "I don't know, Georgie. Maybe. But I also hate her, but I also need her. It's twisted, isn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair. "But when she's not there, I just can't stand it. I wait for her voice. I long for it."
George stared at him for a moment, then let out a chuckle. "You're hopeless, you know that?"
Fred gave a weak smile, his eyes distant. "Yeah, I know." He slumped. "What the hell should I do?"
George sighed. "Well, for starters, you stop drinking your thoughts away, and stop picking fights in the middle of parties."
Fred let out a weak laugh, then sighed. "I don't even know why I followed her tonight. I just couldn't let her go off with that guy like that. It wasn't right."
"You care about her, Fred. That much is obvious," George said quietly, his tone more serious now. "But you've got to figure out what that means before you do something you'll regret."
Fred closed his eyes, his mind spinning. "Yeah, I know. But fuck, it's complicated."
George patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you've got time to figure it out. But for now, let's get you to bed before you collapse."
Fred nodded weakly. Deep down he knew George was right. He cared about her more than he was willing to admit.
He hated her with all of his heart.
Which means all of his heart is filled with her.
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