#Fred x you

[robynlilyblack]

Always little wolf

Fred Weasley x wolfstars daughter! reader

Summary: While y/n and Fred walk home in the snow, the simplest conversation makes Fred sure of one thing, he's going to marry that girl

Warnings: established relationship, kinda luna lovegood type reader, reader loves random facts, kissing, so much fluff, one proofread

A/n: 0.7k words, day 4 we have another fluffy little blurb with freddie and wolfstars adopted daughter, enjoy xx

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Did you know…”

Fred’s already chuckling, the sight of you trying to get on your big fluffy coat whilst tipsy was cute enough, but combine it with an excited random fact? You have his heart melting like crazy. He was used to your random trivia but never grew tired of it, he loved it in fact, especially as it hardly ever related to anything you were doing.

Like when he first met you, you had tagged along with Harry and his dad, your godfather, James, to the quidditch world cup, instead of a 'did you know this about quidditch fact' whilst you walked up the stands with him him, he got a 'did you know otters hold hands while sleeping so they don’t float away from one another?'

It was safe to say he had been at your mercy ever since

"...that...one second...that s-"

“Here…” he gently interrupts your fact before you can start, helping you get your hand through the sleeve “...good girl” he pecks your forehead, adoring the the grin he receives as you cheese up at him, eyes glassy, clearly only half here but the love in your eyes shines through

After one last shout goodbye to those at the party you and Fred brave the cold, his hand finding yours before guiding into his larger pocket to keep it warm

“It’s snowing” you note, free hand coming to wrap around his bicep, as your cheek presses into it

“It is...almost as pretty as you my love” he flirts, adoring your giggle before you let out a little yip, head shooting up to look at him as you move away slightly to smile up at him “What?”

“I forgot to tell you the fact” you say softly and his heart warms, secretly glad you remembered

“Hit me” he flashes you a goofy grin, unable to hold it back as he wraps his arm around you and leads you down the now snow dusted path

“Did you know that Scotland's national animal is a unicorn because there was this wizard whose pet unicorn followed him into a muggle battle?” you say, a little slurred and in a higher pitched tone, the same one you always used when saying your little facts  

Fred chuckles, pulling you a little closer into his side “Seriously?” 

“Siriusly” you start giggling 

“See this is the stuff Binns should have taught us…” Fred shakes his head “...actually you know what lovely? You should try and poach his job” he presses a kiss to your hat clad temple 

“Nah” you shake your head 

“Why not? You love facts, adorable at telling them, cute as a button so all the guys and gals will crush on you, be closer to your dads and uncle” he lists with a shrug, genuinely surprised you wouldn’t be interested

You stop walking, gently removing yourself from Fred's grip and taking his hands in yours instead. His eyebrows pinch but his face soon softens into a smile as he sees you shining up at him 

“Because then I wouldn’t see my favourite person everyday...” you answer simply, easily, almost like it should have been obvious but the next bit floors him "...and when I find out a new fact I can't tell anyone else until i've told you, I always tell you first"

He always felt it in his heart that he was going to marry you one day, but this was the moment he knew for sure...so much that in less than a weeks time you would be saying that three letter word to make it a reality

“Merlin I love you...” the words tumble out breathlessly in the same manor as yours "...so much...so...so much" he emphasises squeezing your hands

Your smile widens at that, a giggle escaping as you step forward, chests grazing “Ditto” you shine, placing a sweet kiss to his nose

He doesn’t let you pull away fully, instead dips down to capture your lips, hands slipping out of yours to cup your chilled cheeks while the snow lightens around you for a moment, large flakes fluttering down slowly like you were in some movie. The cold forgotten for a moment as your warm lips dance with one another, your hands gliding up to find his chest, not caring that it made your fingertips go numb

Your lips still ghost the others as you break away, your cheeks rising with your smile in his light grip as you whisper “Did you know if you remind yourself you aren’t a fish your hiccups will stop?” 

“You're pulling my leg” he whispers back

“Wanna bet Weasley?” you say letting your lips meet again tentatively

“With you? Always little wolf”

Thank you for reading ♡

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

together at last

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by @woahimboredlmao

Hihihi!! I love your writing so much!!! I was wondering if you could do a fred x ghost! Reader? Yn had died years before Fred was even born, she died during her 7th year. So when Fred first sees her he fell in love. Even though most of the other student found her terrifying. Like the lyrics ‘scary my God your Devine’ he finds out eventually how she died and stuff but he never saw her as any less and he always seemed to be around her, despite what others thought and when he dies in the battle of hogworts he’d finally be able to be with her

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Fred had always loved a good mystery, and Hogwarts was full of them. Secret passageways, hidden rooms, ghosts that roamed the halls. But there was one ghost who intrigued him the most, someone no one else seemed to talk about: Y/N.

Fred first noticed her in his third year, late one night after a Quidditch practice. He’d been wandering the corridors with George, trying to avoid Filch, when he saw her. She was standing by a window in one of the more abandoned hallways, her translucent figure barely visible in the moonlight. At first, he thought she was just another one of the castle’s many spirits, but there was something different about her. Something that made him stop in his tracks.

Her eyes were soft, melancholic, and she wore an old Hogwarts uniform, but her presence wasn’t the cold, eerie sensation of the other ghosts. She was more... alive, somehow. Fred couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and in that moment, he felt something tug at his heart. Love at first sight, if you could call it that.

"Oi, Fred, you comin’?" George had whispered, nudging him. But Fred barely heard him, his eyes fixed on the girl by the window. As the weeks passed, Fred found himself wandering that hallway more often, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. And he did. Almost every night, he saw her drifting through the castle, sometimes reading in the library, sometimes sitting quietly in an empty classroom. The other students avoided her. Some called her terrifying, whispered stories about how she haunted the corridors, how she had died in the most gruesome way. But Fred didn’t see that. He saw a girl trapped between worlds, someone with a story untold. And every time their eyes met, he felt that same pull.

Eventually, Fred worked up the courage to approach her. One night, as she hovered near the Gryffindor common room, he slipped away from his friends and quietly made his way over.

“You always seem a bit lonely, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low but playful.

Her head turned, and for the first time, he saw her smile. It was small, faint, but it was enough.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, her voice like a soft echo.

That was how it started. Night after night, Fred would seek her out, and Y/N would be there, waiting. She told him stories of her life at Hogwarts, how she had been a seventh-year student many decades ago. How she had died, her life cut tragically short before she even had a chance to leave the castle. Fred listened, enchanted by her every word. He never saw her as the fearsome ghost others whispered about. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in Hogwarts, with a heart full of sorrow and a spirit that never truly dimmed. He fell harder and harder each day, his love for her growing, even though she was no longer alive.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” she asked him one night, as they sat in the shadow of a forgotten staircase.

“Afraid? Not a chance,” Fred grinned, leaning back. “You’re the best thing about this place.”

Y/N gave him that soft, bittersweet smile, and for a moment, Fred swore he could feel her hand brush against his, even though she was no more than a wisp of air.

The years went by, and Fred never tired of her. His feelings for her deepened, and even when the war against Voldemort darkened the skies, his thoughts were always drawn to her. She was his secret, his comfort, the one person who saw him for who he truly was, beyond the jokes and the pranks. But then came the Battle of Hogwarts. The walls shook with the sounds of spells and screams, and Fred fought alongside his friends and family, never knowing that the end was so near. In the chaos, he barely had a chance to think of her, but in the final moments, when the world went dark, she was the last thing on his mind.When Fred opened his eyes again, the pain was gone. The castle was eerily silent, and he felt... light. Confused, he looked around, realizing that he was standing in the same hallway where he had first seen her all those years ago. And then, she appeared.

Y/N, just as he had always known her, standing a few feet away, her eyes filled with something he hadn’t seen before—hope.

“Fred...” she whispered, her voice trembling.He took a step toward her, his heart swelling with the realization of what had happened. He was no longer alive, but somehow, he didn’t feel afraid.

“You waited for me,” he said, his voice soft.

“I told you I was lonely,” she replied, smiling through her tears. Fred closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out instinctively. And this time, when his fingers brushed hers, he felt it. Solid, real. For the first time since they had met, they were no longer separated by life and death.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, pulling her close. “And I’m never leaving you.”

The world around them faded, and all that was left was the two of them, together at last. Finally free, finally whole.

[msmk11]

Sixth Love Language

Fred Weasley x reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Like one mention of food; fluff; playing pranks!!

Summary: You want to get your boyfriend back after he 'accidentally' pulled a prank on you

Day 7 of mk's mad dash

It is safe to say that you are bursting at the seam with excitement. 

You’ve been dating Fred for almost a year now, and have been friends even longer, so you’ve witnessed your fair share of the twin’s masterful pranks. Being one of his closest confidantes too, you’ve been privy to all of the work and planning that goes into his secret schemes. Though sometimes Fred’s pranks are silly, and even a little mean, they never fail to make you laugh. You look forward to every single one, and are always happy to listen to his tangents about them too. And though you’re a fond admirer of his work, and he’s even offered you the chance to join in on one of his pranks, you’re not sure you have the knack for planning and executing one. 

You’d also never been on the receiving end of one of Fred’s pranks. That was, at least, until about two weeks ago. He swears that it wasn’t intentional, but somehow you’d ended up covered in a sticky goo that was dumped on your head on the way to class. The worst part? It was jinxed with a sticking charm that couldn’t be reversed until the end of the day. Though you were livid, you didn’t let on to your boyfriend. Instead of just giving him a stern talking-to or ignoring him for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

The past week, you’d been poring over countless books trying to find the perfect spell or potion to prank Fred with. After hours upon hours of searching, you found it hidden in Witches Weekly, oddly enough. It was a hair transformation spell. But instead of just changing Fred’s hair once, you’ve altered the charm so that his hair will change to a different cut and color every five minutes. It may not be as clever as your boyfriend’s pranks, but he is vain enough about his red hair that you know it’ll do the job. 

You quite literally do the spell behind his back, casting it on him when he is climbing out the portrait hole in front of you on your way down to breakfast. It’ll take five minutes for his hair to change the first time, and you can barely contain your eagerness as you walk hand-in-hand with Fred to the Great Hall. 

You’ve just gotten seated at his side at the Gryffindor table when it changes for the first time. You watch gleefully as his shorter red hair is replaced with long, wavy pink hair. The change starts subtly, but it doesn’t take long before people start to notice. You keep your head buried in the Daily Prophet as George exclaims, “Oi, Fred! Like the new look you’re going for.”

Fred looks at his twin, confused, “What do you mean?” 

Lee looks up from his cereal and busts out laughing, nearly spraying milk all over the table, “Very princess popstar of you, Freddy.”

Your boyfriend looks at you, bewildered, “Babe, what are they talking about?”

You maintain a straight face as you cooly reply, “Your hair’s gone all long and pink, baby.”

“What?!” he nearly shrieks, catching the attention of pretty much everyone else in the hall. 

The students erupt into laughter as Fred frantically begs you for your compact mirror.

When he’s met with his own appearance, his face twists into horror, “Bloody hell? What is this?! Who did this?”

It’s quite the challenge, trying to maintain a concerned demeanor, “Maybe a Slytherin? Might be payback for that prank you pulled on them last week?”

“But why’s George’s hair normal then? He helped with the prank too!”

“Too handsome for them to ruin this, I reckon,” George adds, motioning to his face confidently. 

“This is a personal attack I-”

But before Fred can finish his sentence, his hair begins to change again, this time into a bright yellow bob. 

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that you let out this time, and Fred whips around to look at you, “What? What is it?”

“Mate, it’s changed again,” Lee chokes out breathlessly.

Fred looks back in your mirror and gapes, horrified, “They’ve done it again! How? I- this needs to bloody stop.”

Suddenly, Fred’s younger brother, Ron, approaches, “Wow, Fred. Like the new look. Though I’m not sure yellow’s your color.”

He bursts into laughter, along with Harry and Hermione who are with him.

“Shut up, you git,” Fred replies, reaching out to slap his arm. 

Ron dodges the hit and busts into laughter again. Even Hermione, the most serious fourteen year old you’ve ever met, can barely keep it together.

Your boyfriend looks at her, “Oi Granger. You’re smart! Quit laughing and help me, would you?”

She shrugs innocently, “Sorry, don’t know a counterspell for that one. You might be stuck like this forever.”

“Baby,” Fred protests, “turning to you with real fear in his eyes. Can you fix this, please?”

When his hair begins to morph again, this time into a green, spiky mohawk, you absolutely lose it. You laugh right in your distraught boyfriend’s face and lean down, burying your head in your arms. 

Never afraid to shy away from attention, and with all eyes already on him, Fred stands up and shouts, “Whoever is doing this, you need to stop it right now!”

People only start laughing harder, and that’s when you finally decide to give up the bit. Though your whole body is still shaking with silent laughter, and a few tears are streaming down your face, you tug on his wrist, “Freddy, baby. Calm down. It was me, okay? I’m the one who put the spell on you.”

Fred freezes in place, and you swear you’ve never seen him this still in your entire time knowing him.

“Baby?” You prod, tugging on his wrist again.

“You did this?” he asks quietly.

You’re starting to become a little worried that Fred is actually upset with you for the prank.

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to get you back for the goo two weeks ago,” you admit shyly. 

You brace yourself, preparing for a lecture about how his prank was just an accident, and how you’d just embarrassed him. 

You couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Fred sweeps you up into his arms, pulling you out of your sweet with a loud laugh, “Babe?! You did this all just to get back at me? You pranked me?!”

You nod at your boyfriend sheepishly.

Fred smacks a big, wet kiss on your lips and you try not to be shy about the fact that it’s in front of everyone, “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, then?” You answer with a giggle.

Then Fred shouts to everyone, “I have the best partner ever!”

[jellyfishbeansontoast]

⭒ luke's diner - fred weasley & switching positions with the other when walking down a busy sidewalk because you feel the need to keep the other safe

this is like genuinely one of the cutest things ive ever written i think

Molly had always joked that someone should put a warning label on both you and Fred as your combined clumsiness makes for some interesting disasters. Most of your errors come from being so giddy in love with Fred but if anyone asks you’re just as naturally clumsy as he is. 

You’d met Fred outside his shop in Diagon Alley, unfortunately at the same time as everyone else had decided to go for lunch too. Battling the crowds was difficult enough on your own, let alone trying to keep track of your boyfriend.                                          

You clutch at his arm, desperate not to lose him. Fred wraps his arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his side, pulling you closer to him. “Where do you wanna eat?” he asks, weaving his way through a large group of people. 

“Ice cream?” you ask lacing your fingers with his. 

“For lunch?” 

“I’m sure there’s lunch flavoured ice creams.” he snorts in response. 

“You can’t convince me to try that roast beef flavoured ice cream again.” 

You’re too busy remembering the moment to notice the group of people stopped looking at something right in front of you, too distracted to notice you either. Fred grabs your shoulders with both hands, steering you round so you’re now under his other arm. “Too busy thinking?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, throwing him a sheepish grin in response. “Gotta watch out, can’t have my girl running into the back of people.”

[l-lenny]

Bet you can´t woo her of her feet! (pt. 1)

Fred Weasley x Slytherin! reader PART 1

SERIES MASTERLIST

TW: reader cursed, but other than that I hope none :3 (also not proof read and english is not my first language) 

My first FF hope you will like it! -Lenny ________________________________________________________________ Power. Pure blood. Beauty. Smart. Cunning. Dangerous.

Those were the words to describe her and the family of Ravens. Everybody knew the rich family of mighty merchants and dealers of magic relics, goods and fauna. They were well respected as they can get almost anything from anyone or anywhere. Their whole business is based on finding the impossible. The family had long tradition of maintaining this business. The founding father of the “Raven´s goods” Wolfe Killian Raven build great name for next generations to follow. His son and daughter Goran Azriel and Aurelia Sybil Ravens took over the bussines after their fathers death and expanded the goods to fauna and relics too. Next owner become Aurelia´s son Calder Eliphas Raven, who was the last to own the shop before his daughter Lilith Ursa Raven took over with her husband. Thanks to Lilith and Athan the business took sky high popularity. Now the shop is one of the best places to get anything and everything you wish for.

At King´s cross station stood, on platform 9 ¾ stood many young witches and wizards, waiting for the train to Hogwarts. Y/n Indigo Raven, the eldest daughter of the mighty Ravens was there waiting with her parents. Her younger brother Darius Wolfe and his twin sister Opal Estelle hugging her legs crying and already missing their sister. “Be sure to enjoy yourself.” Her father said. Y/n smiled and nodded. “Sure will!” Her mother placed hand on her head and said “We have to go to the shop soon.” The eldest daughter knew that, she was expecting this after all. Her parents were always about business. “I know, it is to make your business grow.” Her mother smiled proudly. “Of course! Smart and correct as always. I know you will be in Raven claw like me. ” she added patting her hair. The toddlers finally let her go from their big hug. Her parents bid their eldest daughter last goodbye and left with the small twins. As the girl went to the train she sit down in one of the coupes. With opened book she was going to enjoy her favorite novel and peaceful moment, when one loud girl came to the coupe. “Hi! Can I sit here?” The girl wasn´t even waiting to her answer as the silver-hair made herself comfortable. Y/n closed the book rather loudly and looked at the girls. “And who you might be?” she asked. Honestly she was interested in the loud and kinda obnoxious girl. “I am Orleana.” said the girl in front of Y/n. The eldest daughter of Ravens nodded and gave them a small smile. “You can call me Y/n.”

It wasn´t even full week in the school and Y/n was looking around each corner of Hogwarts just to memorize everything in the school. She was quick to realize where most of the ingredients for potions were and where teachers had their notes stored. The eldest daughter of Raven family was going to be continuing the family legacy. She decided that it would be beneficial. And oportunity stroke in few days, when she heard two redheads talk about getting wolf´s fangs of a prank. “-have to get a wolf´s fangs George!” said one to the other. Y/n stayed hidden and listen to the voices. “Fred, where would we found a wolf´s fangs now?! You should have told me before!” said the other voice. Y/n was in fact aware where to  get them. She actually got them from supply cabinet for her experiment. “I can help you with that.” She said as she revealed herself. There were two boys in front of her eyes. Twins with flaming hair and red ties. “Bloody hell did it had to be slytherin who cought us?” Cursed one of them. “I said I would help you, right?” the girl folded her arms and smirked. “Why?” asked the boys at the same time. “I want to start a business. I am sure I could find a way to get you anything! But anything has a prize right?” She stated. The boys looked at each other and asked suspiciously “Anything?” they asked at the same time. “like ingredients?” asked Fred. “like test answers?” asked George. “like information?” asked Fred again. “like esseys?” asked George again. While the girl nodded. “Yes to all of that. I can find anything! Just like my mom and dad. They own the Raven´s goods after all” said little girl with confidence and showed them her palm full of their desired ingredient. The twins jaws dropped. This was deal of the century! Still they were sceptical about her motive because she was a slytherin. But in the moment they agreed. “What do you want for the wolf´s fangs?” they asked. “Because you are my first costumers I will get you a good deal. Spread a word around, that I can get anything for anyone and we will be even.”

Trough the years her clientele enormously grew. She was treated with more respect then before. Eaven royalty would be jealous. She was pride of her class. Everyone in the school knew who she was and why she was famous, although no one dared to tell the teachers. But the rumors were spread that even teachers asked for things of her small bussiness. She grew into a dealer with incredible skills and respect of others. One of her regular costumers were her first costumers, the Weasley twins. And she was getting more busy by the day, specifically around exam period. Every house would want something around this time, even if they would be suspicious of her. She also grew into intelligent, witty, kinda smug, brilliant and beautiful witch. Y/n did get a lot of admirers through the years, but everyone of them stayed hidden in the shadows in fear of rejection or her wrath.

________________________________________________________________

“Of course I am the more handsome twin!” Argued Fred. “Says who?” deadpanned the younger twin. “Says me!” Yelled the older Weasley twin. “What are you two arguing about?” asked Angelina, obviously annoyed with her friends, who had been very loud this morning. They weren't mad at each other, just brotherly bickering. Angelina seemed mad at them, because they have been very loud and obnoxious, more than usual. “About who is more handsome.” Said Fred and looked the girl in the eye. “Say, Angie... the one and only Angelina with joyful eyes and blinding smile, I am the more handsome twin, right?” He winked at her and the girl blused. “Come on mate! Not fair.” Pouted George and slap his brother on his shoulder.  Obviously pointing at the fact that Angelina did fancy Fred. With quick “shut up, I don´t know” the girl returned to her food, small smile on her lips. “Let´s make a bet then!” Offered George. Confident in his new brilliant idea. “The first girl we see come to the great hall you will try to win over. If you woo her of her feet I will publicly announce that you are the more attractive twin.” George explained. Fred smirked and shake hands with his brother. “You are going to loose! 5 galleons on top that.” Stated the older ginger, smiling and agreeing on the terms.

Both of the twins were waiting for a girl to come trough door in great hall. And than the loud bang came though the door and there walked very pissed girl with the most beautiful eyes. Both of the twins knew her. The slytherin pride and joy, treated as royalty, filthy rich and powerful girl Y/n Indigo Raven. They were both so dead if caught!

She was fuming and giving death stare towards a slytherin table. She stormed towards Adrian Pucey avadake davra written in her firing gaze. “Adrian bloody Pucey!” The boy in question turned to her, visibly shaken. “Can you explain yourself?!” She showed a book in his face. Fred and George were enjoying the show and then again, the thought of seducing this firecracker settled in. “You are so dead...” George said. It wasn´t a fact that they would be scared, more that they did kinda respected her. And for the twins to respect someone means something. “Why in the bloody hell would you do this?” The girl screamed in his face. “Come on! I know you love the idea-” the boy was quickly shushed by the girl´s finger. “Don´t fuck with me Pucey! I loathe the idea of being with you in the same house, room and universe… isn't it enough that we share the same oxygen?! ” she said with a freezing tone. The boy swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. After this the girl left and after her there was Orleana. Fred and George were looking at each other in shock. 

“How much time do I have?” Asked the older ginger. “Dunno mate. How about a month?” Suggested the younger one. “Deal” they said at the same time. George was curious though “How will you make her fall for you?” he asked. The older boy smirked, already forming a plan. “You will see my dear brother.”

________________________________________________________________

“Y/n!” yelled rather short girl with shiny, curly silver hair. Said girl stopped and looked at her friend. “Yea?” she asked plainly. “What happened? You just said you would look for your potions book! Not that you would yell at Adrian!” Orleana started asking about the debacle in great hall. That morning before the breakfast Y/n forgot her potions book and returned to her room to look for it. How ever when someone messes with her stuff, she can´t forgive them that easily. “He wrote in my book without my knowledge or permission, see?” Y/n showed her potions book. In fact there was a writing that wasn't hers. “Go out with me. Tomorrow at Hogsmeade. -Yours Adrian” when the words left the shorter girls mouth she made discussed face. “He didn´t even asked you?! It´s like he orderd you to do it.” she was fuming now. “I will break his nose.” That made Y/n´s day a bit better. She didn’t like Adrian Pucey at all. She didn´t even spoke to him that much. Yet he had the audacity to write in her book. “Orle, you can´t...you will get yourself in detention. I will not go trough the dark forest again just to get your ass out of trouble.” smiled the taller girl. “You go there on daily basis!” pouted the silverhead. “But that's because its for my costumers! You know, the ones that actually pay?” argued Y/n in a mocking maner. “Hey! I said I will pay you when my dad will give me back my allowance.” Orleana pouted more, while the girl in front of her giggled. ________________________________________________________________

PART 2: here PS: Orleana is just my OC :)

[delulu4marauders]

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS.

( just reblogging this so i can read this later on in life lol )

Revenge

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2,545

Request: Hi love, can I get 82 and 78 with Fred Weasley? I love your writing btw 💕💕💕

78: "This is illegal isnt it?"

82: "I will face god as I walk backward into hell."

Summary: After her boyfriend cheats on her Fred and George help reader get revenge

A/n: I am so sorry this is so late. My summer has been shit, my bestfriend started dating the guy I have liked for over a year, and my other friend is pissed at me rn sooo yeah life is great. Anyway, sorry again and I'll try to catch up on some writing. Hope u guys enjoy!

You woke up to a blinding light turning your eyelids from a dark peaceful space to a bloody red one. You groaned opening them slowly and painfully squinting against the sunlight filtering through the large windows in the common room. 

Groaning in confusion you began to gain your senses back, along with memories from the night before. You remembered winning the quidditch game by barely a second then the raging party afterwards, and the number of shots you had taken quickly and painlessly to celebrate your win. 

And now you were tangled in limbs with someone on a couch not daring to move because of the pounding in your head that felt like someone was hitting it with a hammer every other second.

Finally the sting slowed to a dull throb and you sat up trying to ignore the intensifying pain once again rising in your head. You looked around to find your legs wrapped around your best friend's. Your head had been in the crook of his arm and you had to push his other arm off your shoulder. 

You slid your legs off of Fred and stood up causing the red headed boy to stir but not wake. You then began to take in your soundings. 

The floor was littered with red plastic cups and garbage. There was red and gold confetti everywhere and red streamers across the balcony above. 

You sighed and headed up to your dorm pressing in on your temples. You quickly got changed at went down to the common room. You and Cormac were supposed to meet up for breakfast -you had agreed to do so before the match- but now he was probably passed out and hungover. 

You sighed and decided to go check. If he was asleep you would just wake up Fred to go with you. 

You headed up the stairs your headache fading away thanks to the healing potion you had downed upstairs.

You pushed open the door and was met with two pairs of eyes. One was the hazel of your boyfriend and the others were the deep brown of Katie Bell. 

You stumbled backwards at the sight in front of you. Your eyes became blurry with tears. Why was Katie here? Why was she half naked? And why was SHE ON TOP OF YOUR BOYFRIEND?!

"You asshole!" You spat out tears streaming down your cheeks. 

Cormac pushed Katie off of him and started towards you. 

"Shit y/n, I-I didn't mean for you to see that." 

"No shit." You gritted out fury and sadness budding inside you.

He tried to step towards you but you took a step back, "Y/n I-"

"Eight months," you scoffed the comfort you had seen in his eyes gone. "Eight fucking months!"

He flinched at your words as if each one was a slap to the face. 

"You threw away eight months to fuck a slut like Katie Bell?!" You screeched not caring that you had just woken a dozen hungover teenagers.

"Hey!" Katie yelled clearly offended. 

You turned to her with fury in your eyes that made her cower, "You don't get to speak."  You hissed. Katie shut her lips tight and retreated into the corner.

"Don't take this out on her." Cormac said.

"You're defending her!" Your words were sharp and haunted. 

"Your one to talk of being a slut when your sleeping with Weasley!" 

You let out a sour laugh, "Who? Fred?" 

"Yeah Fred, you're all over him!" 

"You know what McLaggen?" You scoffed. "I should have been with Fred."

"Yeah, you think you should have been with him?!" Cormac yelled taking a step toward you, "Then go! Go fuck Weasley!"

You looked up at him tears leaving shimmering trails down your cheeks. Your eyes filled with a dark fire, "Go fuck yourself McLaggen." You seethed before turning on your heels and darting down the stairs. 

You were met with 11 pairs of eyes each showed emotions ranging from anger to pity. The latter more common than the former. 

"Shows over." You murmured angrily. 

Most eyes darted away from you and you scoffed before walking towards the portrait hole. You were stopped by a hand catching g your wrist. 

It was Fred, he tried to pull you into a hug while murmuring comforting words but you pulled away angrily. You left tears dripping from your chin as your crimson robes billowed behind you.

It had been a week. A week of the glances and the whispers. A week of the pitying looks and pointed fingers. A week of anger and sadness.

Fred watched you suffer for a week and he was done. He couldn't stand watching you fall apart over a boy who you should've been with in the first place. He tried to comfort you but his attempts failed each time. So he decided you needed the next best thing. 

Revenge.

Fred and George had a special talent when it came to revenge. So when they found you drunk and alone on the dock to the Black Lake, they decided to take action.

It took the twins two days to come up with the perfect prank. They wanted something that would humiliate him to no end but not physically hurt him. 

Well, George to remind Fred of the last part more often than not when the older twin came up with ideas that could seriously injure their target. 

Finally they struck gold on a plan. 

You sat in the library trying to focus on your potions essay instead of the group of fourth years that were giggling behind their hands pointing at you every so often. You finally snapped whipping around to face the group. 

"You point at me one more time and I will cut that finger off." You threatened your voice low and menacing. 

The younger students flashed red, eyes widened before mumbling an apology and quickly exiting the library. 

"Well you scared the shit out of them." George laughed taking a seat next to you and snatching the quill from your hand. 

You sighed, "What do you what Weasley?"  

"This is about what you want, what you need." Fred stated sliding on your other side and throwing his arm around your shoulders. 

"What's that?" You grumbled visibly annoyed. 

"Revenge." Both twins voiced at the same time smirks taking over their pink lips. 

And for the first time in weeks you felt a smile across your lips, "Alright, what are we talking?" 

You stood in front of the portrait entrance watching as the twins set up the trip wire. 

You giggled, "This is illegal isn't it?" 

"Nah," Fred smiled back at you he had missed the sound of your laughter. 

"It does break about 30 different school rules though." George shrugged. 

"Good." You grinned flashing your white teeth. "That means it's going to be brilliant."

"That also means we need a getaway plan." Fred pointed out, sighing and backing away from his masterpiece. 

"We could make a run for the closet in the charms room." You suggested. 

"Good idea but all three of us won't fit." George explained. 

"Okay, we'll go there and you make a run for the astronomy tower." Fred offered smirking at his astounded brother. 

"What! Why do you get to go to the easy spot?" Goerge asked visibly annoyed. 

"Because I called it." Fred replied, clearly proud of himself.

"The only reason you want to hide in a closet with y/n is because-" George was cut by a particularly cold glare from his twin.

"Because what?" You asked looking back and forth from the boys. 

"Nothing." Goerge grumbled rolling his eyes.

You mimicked his actions and sighed, you weren't going to get an answer out of the two any time soon. 

"Ok so y/n your going to lead him out then we will let the magic happen. " Fred grind.

"This better work." You mumbled. 

"It'll work." George asherrd you. 

"Hey McLaggen, I want to talk to you." When those words left your mouth everyone in the common room snapped their attention to you, as usual they had nothing else to do but wait around like vaulters for something interesting to happen.

Cormac smirked looking up at you, "Alright sweetheart."

You almost slapped him, you managed to take a deep breath and force a smile on your face as you walked towards the exit with him. 

Just before you exited the portrait hole you looked straight up at him and punched him square in the jaw. Your fist connected with his face and he stumbled backwards clutching the spot where he had just been hit. 

Gasps were heard from behind you as some people stood up to get a better view of the scene unfolding in front of them.

"You bitch!" He shrieked, " Your gonna rot in Hell. Rot!" 

You sprinted away from him as he started after you. You were sure to step over the tripwire as you darted out of the way. 

You turned just as he tripped over the thin wire sprawling to the ground. 

"I will face god as I walk backward into hell!"  You yelled at him flipping him off as you walked backwards. 

You watched with a satisfied smile as the boy who had caused you so much pain was dumped in black ink. 

The second the rotten smelling ink covered him George cast a Bedazzling hex and seconds afterwards Fred cast a bat bogey hex and an Antler jinx. 

You burst into laughter watching as the boy stumbled around blindly covered in vomit scented ink growing antlers as his own mucus grew wings and attacked his face. 

"Come on y/n!" Fred yelled snatching your hand and darting towards the East wing. 

The two of you burst into the Charms classroom and darted for the closet. Fred shoved you inside before following and slamming the door behind him. 

You were still laughing the hilarious image of your ex-boyfriend dancing in your mind. 

Fred was smiling too, how could he not be happy when the sound of your laughter filled his ears? 

The two of you stood in the dark closet chests brushing for 4 minutes before your laughter died out, well was more cut off.

Fred heard voices and promptly slapped his hand over your mouth. Your laughter had still been to loud and as much as you tried to stop it you couldn't. So you did the next best thing. You buried your head deep into Fred's chest to muffle the sound. 

Fred had never been more thankful for the dark. He swore he was on fire when you had nuzzled into his sweatshirt, wrapping your arms around him. 

When you laughter finally did die you just stood there buried deep into his chest, hugging him tightly as you breathed in his sweet scent. 

"Thank you." You mumbled, voice barely audible.

"For what?" Fred asked face still hot. 

"For everything." You murmured, tried to snuggled deeper into Fred's soft sweatshirt. "You've done so much for me." 

"Y/n I would do anything for you." The red headed boy whispered wrapping his arms around you and burying his head into your y/h/c hair inhaling its signature floral scent. The scent he would recognize anywhere. "I love you y/n." 

The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. His eyes went wide as you pulled away from him in shock. 

You felt your breath speed up, "What!?" You cried attempting to back up only to hit a shelf directly behind you. 

Fred felt like his whole world just came crashing down on him. He stumbled over his words trying to recover only to realize there was no going back. 

"You love me?" You asked eyes wide, eyebrows knitted together as confusions etched itself onto your face. 

Fred sighed looking helplessly down at his hands. He finally looked back up at you and exhaled loudly. "Yes." 

You stumbled falling against the wall coving your face with your hands. This was too much too soon. Your boyfriend cheats on you and your best friend says he loves you all in one week. This was way too much. 

"Look y/n I'm really sorry to spring this on you but it's about time I tell you I've loved you for 4 years." Fred declared. 

"FOUR YEARS?" You gasped mouth dropping open, eyed the size of golf balls as you ran your hand through your hair. 

"Yeah but it's all your fault." Fred snapped suddenly feeling angry at the girl for putting him through years of unrequited love.

"My fault!?" You yelled anger conquering your features. 

"Yeah!" Fred scoffed, "Your the one who had to be all pretty and smart. It's not my fault your perfect! Your the one who made me fall in love with you!" 

"What could I have possibly done to make you fall in love with me?!"

Fred's mouth now dropped, "Are you kidding?" He scoffed. 

"Do I look like I'm kidding?!" You asked impatiently. 

"What made me fall in love with you? Well let's see, how about the fact that you stand up for yourself no matter what, or the fact that you are smarter than the rest of the kids in our year combined. Or maybe that you make the best jokes and you are clever and witty in the best possible way. Or the fact that you are so stupidly beautiful I can't even look at you without imagining what it would be like to run my hands over your-!" 

His ranting was cut off when your reached up and grabbed his tie, roughly slamming your lips onto his.

His eyes widened in surprise before shutting slowly as he leaned into the kiss. 

One of your hands found their way to the back of his neck while your other ran through his fiery red hair, tugging lightly making him moan. When his lips parted you slipped your tongue inside them tasting butterbeer and chocolate, rich and sweet. 

His hands found your waist and pulled you close for a second until you pulled away. 

The two of you stood in the dark panting for a few seconds before Fred spoke. 

"Why did you do that?" He gasped eyes wide from surprise. 

"I don't know!" You yelled, "I just really wanted to kiss you all of the sudden!" 

"Well it was good." Fred replied 

"Yeah it was." You breathed out. 

Another few seconds of silence past. 

"Can I do it again?" Fred asked hope inlayed into each word.

"Yeah." You nodded before your lips were connected.

The ginger pushed you against the wall kissing you desperately, his tongue running over your lips before you opened them, pulling him impossibly closer to you by the neck. He started to unbutton  your shirt when you were unfortunately interrupted. 

Light flooded the closet and you both turned to see a disgusted twin. 

"I'm proud of you Fred, but stop before I puke." George grimaced. 

"Sorry." You mumbled pulling away from the boy and straightening your shirt. 

George began to walk away mumbling "The coast is clear." 

Fred brushed past you to follow him but before he could pass you grabbed his hand turning him towards you. 

"Hey Fred?" You asked 

"Yeah?"

"I think I love you too."

Masterlist

[tsukimirecs]

GRYFFINDOR BOYS

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

FRED WEASLEY

mad woman

cupid crystals

a special friend

recovering a life

deep breath

strawberry letters

date after date

SIRIUS BLACK

complimentary quills

just a natural fact

brighten your days

black dog neighbour

padfoot

HARRY POTTER

harry potter and the long-lost beach episode

harry potter and the late-night company

potter love

gifts

green-eyed idiot

romancing professor potter

CHARLIE WEASLEY

creative writing class

favourites

taming the dragon tamer

lucky charm

let's pretend

GEORGE WEASLEY

heart-to-heart chase

beating a weasley

well-meaning deceit

see you again

it's definitely you

coming home

[heartthrobin]

the hate game (1)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 13.3k

warnings: enemies to lovers, so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, super grumpy!oliver, oliver's scottish accent (it's a warning in itself), alcohol consumption, super! duper! cheesy! (sorry not sorry)

an: just survived the worst two weeks of my life, but the fic is finally here! this fic was originally a full 50 chapter fic i had planned for wattpad like three years ago but i found my draft for it recently and decided it needed a revival. so enjoy it, and don't forget to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: the only thing more grating than Oliver's foul moods and his permanent scowl, has to be the fact that he's so damn pretty. you fucking hate him for it.

part two/final part

Movies, as is their premise, glamourise plenty of things - high school, politics, tiny Greek islands - but none more than the classic sucker-punch.

The teeth-crunching, blood-spitting moment where skin meets skin in a satisfying thump that sends an unsuspecting victim to the floor. Music plays and the hero grins, grabbing the girl round the waist: dipping low to kiss her.

What’s consistently (conveniently) left out is how bloody painful it is to be on the sending end of that fist.

The first, and only, time you’d ever punched someone was in second year.

It had seemed like a great idea in the moment, quickly succeeded by the mind-numbing pain that shot up your arm where knuckle met face.

You’d aimed for his jaw, but as it turns out: in addition to painful, punching someone wasn’t a particularly accurate sport for a beginner and your slippery skin found a round-tipped nose instead.

A collective gasp and a month’s worth of detention waited for you on the other side of your act of rage.

And sure, while afternoons in Snape’s classroom every Friday sucked: it was all worth it.

Every purple knuckle that throbbed with the slightest brush, the points lost to Hufflepuff, the pages and pages of Hogwarts Does Not Condon Physical Violence you’d been forced to write was worth seeing the trickle of blood running down from Oliver Wood’s nose.

To see that smug fucking look wiped clean from his face. To watch how he doubled over in pain, grappling onto his friend for balance.

“Tyler fancying you? Any bloke would rather snog a goblin.”

His little comment had earned him a broken nose.

It had been the start of a five year long feud.

It’s the reason - now - why the ground is racing up to meet you, the nose of your broomstick pressed down towards it and wind whipping so hard against your face it draws tears. You knock into the ground, catching yourself on wobbly legs. A few feet away, Oliver Wood has done the same.

He’s marching towards you with the same ferocity that’s curdling in your chest:

“Tha’s blatching and you know it!” His accent is ringing, thick and blistering with heat like it always is when he talks to you. At you, rather.

The accusation is crystal clear, and loud despite the echoing din of the quidditch stands above. From the field where you're parked, you can hear the chatter and the cheers and the boos all conglomerating into a fuzzy uproar.

There’s still twelve brooms floating in the air, spewing irritated shouts from players in both yellow and red:

Just let it go, Wood!

Come on, Cap, can we just finish the match please!

You promptly ignore them. Oliver follows suit.

“What?” You scoff, face hot as a kettle on a lit stove. “As if Laurel and Hardy haven’t been elbowing my girls all game!”

It goes without saying that you’re referring to Gryffindor’s red-head twin-set of beaters.

“Bullshit.” He seethes, it’s purposefully quiet enough that McGonagall’s approaching figure doesn’t pick it up.

She, unlike yourself, is less patient and knobby vein-webbed hands come out to knock you both against your chests: widening the gap to a safe enough distance between the opposing captains.

“You two are exhausting.” And she sounds it too. Her glasses tremble at the edge of her nose, sun shining down on her aged face. "If one more match this season is interrupted because you two can't control your tempers, you will both be stripped of captainship and you will not fly until you graduate. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

But Oliver isn't looking at her. His eyes are focused on yours over her cloaked shoulder.

He's taking the predictable route of not replying first.

"Crystal clear, Professor." You resign to speaking first, skewing a grin at his anger-sewn face.

It’s another long boring moment before he cuts his gaze from yours, kicks up a patch of grass and grits through his teeth.

“Yes, professor.”

As can be imagined, things between you and Oliver Wood have been tense since the day he’d hobbled up to the hospital wing with a palm over his face and blood dripping down over his already red tie.

But with age, came ferocity, and what started as passing glares in the corridor melted into anger-drowned faces and sharp words flung with intent to scar.

Things got infinitely worse when you were elected captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team in the same year Oliver was made captain for Gryffindor. It stoked the already sizzling embers that made moments around him warm and stuffy and hard to breathe.

The murky history swirled with what should be friendly competition, instead frothing into a bubbling pot of annoyed teammates and exasperated teachers and more sessions of detention than you would have ever had if you'd never met the son of a bitch that is Oliver Wood.

It's what puts you in situations like the ones you find yourself in the middle of before you even know how you got yourself there.

"You two," Professor Burbage had never held you in particularly high favour. It was just your luck that Oliver received the same courtesy. "One more word out of either of you and I will be seeing both of you this afternoon for detention in my classroom."

It was even unluckier that she'd sat you two barely three wizards away from one another and one fly-away comment had blown out into another heat-filled exchange. It always does.

"But professor--" you try.

"Right then. I'll see you both at five o' clock."

Oliver sighs, hands running up over his head between chestnut locks: "Fucking perfect. Thanks, big-mouth."

"Would you like to make it two days, Mr Wood?"

He huffs like an angry dog, tightening the grip on his writing-feather but says nothing else.

The end of the lesson doesn't come soon enough and when it does, Oliver is first out of his seat. You're grateful for it.

Cherry bumps you in the shoulder where she throws her bag over it. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

You grin, despite the sunken feeling hollowing your chest with the acknowledgment that you're gonna be spending yet another afternoon at the mercy of an under-paid staff member alongside the hothead that was the Gryffindor captain.

"Come on, that wasn't my fault and you know it."

Her tight red curls dance when she shakes her head. They match her blood red tie. "Somehow it never is."

To your dismay, but not surprise, Enzo shares Cherry's views when he waltzes into step beside you in the corridor between Muggle Studies and Divination. His arm drapes over your shoulders and his tall frame shakes when he laughs.

"You know," his voice is thick and gravelly. "You two are gonna have to fuck it out eventually."

You roll your eyes, shoving him off you with a chuckle. The sentiment isn't anything new. "Oh, shut up."

The day folds blurrily between classes and lunch and greenhouse visits that by the time you look up it's just about five o clock.

Burbage's office door stares down at you.

The corridor is ghostly all the way behind you and it's emptiness means it's easy to make out Oliver's heavy footsteps down the stone floor. They're not slow, in an arrogant strut, neither quick like he has somewhere to be.

He trudges. Like the weight of the world is strapping him to invisible pins in the floor. It's easy to figure that your existence doesn't lighten his load any.

You don't turn. He simply falls into place beside you, keeping a good foot distance between your tightened shoulders.

The door opens.

Charity Burbage is insufferable in the way that she forces you and Oliver to sit almost on top of each other behind a scratched up desk where she can watch you under the curtain of her ratty blond hair.

You inch the chair dramatically away from Oliver's.

She's set a stack of pages by him and a wet stamp. "Stamp these and sign the date."

Additionally, she's dropped a stack of envelopes under your nose. "Tuck and seal. When you're done, you can leave."

You eye the papers. There must be hundreds.

To Whom It May Concern,

Hogwarts would like to remind all parents and guardians that the third-years will require prior permission before being allowed to visit the nearby village of Hogsmeade--

You jump when Oliver's elbow knocks yours (more violently than what was really necessary). He holds the first page out to you silently, face dripping with impatience.

When you take the page, his thumb brushes yours.

The paper is delicate in your fingers where you fold it. You tuck and seal, and by the time you've set it aside Oliver is offering the next page to you again.

His thumb brushes yours for a second time.

You find that it does for every letter that's passed on.

It's hard not to watch him out the corner of your eye. Oliver has this dark brown, nearly black, hair that's thick and almost too long and untamed all over. It's matched by bushy eyebrows and speckled freckles over the bridge of his nose.

If you didn't hate him as much as you did, you might think he was pretty. You might think that anyway.

Time stretches until the sun is setting the classroom afire with golden light and it's boredom that causes it, or possibly a desire to hear his voice at such tight quarters, but you speak.

"You know," it's soft enough that Burbage doesn't look up from her Witch Weekly magazine. "Even if - in some act of God - Scotland qualifies for the semi-finals, Luxembourg is gonna flatten them. I mean, think about it unemotionally, Wood: they have Luca Schmit as seeker. It's really a no brainer--"

"Are y’really just stupid or are you purposefully trynna start another argument?" His gaze flickers up to eye Burbage's desk warily, she still doesn't react.

Maybe it's both. After all, the subject of the Quidditch World Cup had been what put you both there in the first place.

You shrug, unfazed by his scathing remark.

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well don't."

His hand brushes yours again.

-

Every second Friday, generally at the tail-end of lunch, Hooch's grey barn owl swoops low over your head and drops a smaller-than-average white envelope right into your mashed potatoes. Cherry yelps in surprise every time.

Then you watch the bird drop the same over the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables.

Good afternoon,

Reminder of Captain's meeting this afternoon in my office. Six o' clock, don't be late.

Regards,

Madam Hooch.

The letter says the same thing it has since you became captain and it's a wonder you still take the effort to break the seal on the envelope.

But come six o' clock, you're traipsing towards the west end of the castle. Lavender streaks caress the sky under the last impression of sunlight through the ornate stone arch of the corridor windows and an autumn chill creeps up your arms where your sweater isn't thick enough.

Hooch's office is in a quiet alcove, nearly impossible to find if you didn't know where to look, and the lamps are lit. Beyond the door, you can hear voices: you grin.

The door creaks noisily where you push it open. Inside it's cramped and cluttered with shelves of quidditch equipment - broken brooms, punctured quaffles and loose kits draping every open surface - but it's warm and smells like leather and is maybe your favourite little room in the whole castle.

The quidditch legend herself, Rolanda Hooch, has her legs kicked up on her desk and the boys are standing ahead of it locked in animated chatter.

She's laughing at something they said, and smiles when you enter.

"Sorry I'm late, coach."

It's nothing new and she waves you in with a smile. "Come in, poppet."

"Merlin," Marcus' shoulder finds yours and the force of the bump nearly sends you off your feet. "You'd be late to your own funeral hey, Puffers?"

You laugh, shoving him back with as much force as you can muster against the giant brute that is Slytherin captain Marcus Flint. It barely nudges him but he barks out a laugh, rough like tractor tires over crumbly concrete.

"I'm worth the wait." You quip back, leaning around Marcus to wink at Roger Davies. "Isn't that right, Rodger?"

He flirts back, "Always, sweetheart."

Roger is the antithesis of Marcus: all pale skin, blue eyes and short blonde hair. Easy on the eyes.

Oliver lingers just behind him, the tallest of the captains. You catch his eye, face slipping into something more serious, and nod. "Hey, Wood."

He nods in return, curt like how a ministry wizard's might be.

"Right," Hooch sits up straight in her high-back chair. "There are just a couple things we need to get through tonight, we won't be long."

The dynamic between the captains would be easy, if not for Oliver.

You're the only girl and that made for tough beginnings. Marcus is naturally brash and brutish, but - as you found - easy to impress with a couple showy tricks on the broom. A single promise to show him how to pull off a Woollongong Shimmy had him eating out your hand: the favour of a couple Slytherins was generally hard to buy and invaluable to a plushy Hufflepuff such as yourself.

Roger popped out the womb with a wink at the nurse. Impeccably charming and impossibly negotiable. Beyond being slightly dim, it was hard to say a bad thing about the Ravenclaw captain

On the other hand, Oliver was … well, Oliver.

Hooch tapped the sharp end of a writing feather rhythmically at a spot on her desk, eyes roving her clipboard.

"Next week we're doing a clean up of the supply room down by the pitch. I've set you each up on days, the whole team needs to be down to help unless they're excused by a teacher: I want a written letter."

She offers a piece of parchment without looking up.

"As you all know, it's the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game next week."

You bump your elbow to Marcus'. He looks down and grins a mouthful of crooked teeth before turning to Roger. "Ready, pretty boy?"

Roger rolls crystal blue eyes, but he's smiling too. "Bring it on, tough-shit."

"Oy," Hooch interrupts them with a cool sigh, "The last thing, you all submitted your autumn practice requests for the pitch: Roger, Marcus, you have the days you want--"

They nod. Your shoulders stiffen.

"--Oliver, Y/n. You both want Wednesday afternoons. Monday afternoon is open, I'll let you two decide between each other who is gonna move their practice. I want a decision before tomorrow night."

Marcus is sniggering under his breath. The edges of your mouth sink into a frown, of course he wants the same day as me.

You can feel the heat of Oliver's eyes on the side of your face. You don't indulge him, keeping your gaze settled on Hooch's face.

"We'll figure it out, coach."

"Unlikely." Roger's quip is barely a whisper but you catch it.

"Alright." Hooch doesn't. "You're dismissed, go get some dinner kids."

The office door bounces back off the stone wall where Marcus tosses it carelessly open, echoing all the way down the empty corridor.

Frosty air chases over your face and the boys start down towards the Great Hall. Roger is complaining about a potions essay he hasn't started and Marcus is shrugging him off with a suggestion that includes something along the vein of blackmailing a sixth year into doing it for him but you can't focus long enough to follow.

"Oliver." Irritation is prickling at the surface of your skin. It flares into an almost rash when he stops walking, glancing over his shoulder with an unconcerned expression. "Who's giving Wednesday up?"

His arms fold against his chest. You're working extremely hard not to look down where his biceps stretch the seams on his Hogwarts jumper. "Well, you obviously."

Marcus barks another laugh, he calls down the corridor: "We'll see you kids at dinner."

"Yeah, don't kill each other! It's only practice!"

You huff in disbelief, unconcerned with the running commentary.

"Uh," you mirror Oliver by folding your own arms. "no it's not. Come on, we can negotiate like civil people can't we?"

Thick caterpillar eyebrows disappear beyond the overgrowth hiding his forehead. "Negotiate? I'm the one who wasted three hours of my life in detention last week thanks to your big fat mouth. Wednesday is mine."

"That was a joint effort, twat." You can feel where your throat is flush with rising anger. It wires your jaw tight. "Are you really so bloody difficult that we can't even come to a simple agreement?"

"Difficult?" His arms have shifted from his chest to perch against his hips. "Just because I'm not giving you what you want? Cry me a fucking river, darling. Sorry Puffers, but I'm not your precious Marcus or Roger. I'm not gonna fold just cause you bat yer pretty little eyelashes at me."

Pretty?

You blink in surprise. It's brushed quickly aside for more pressing matters. Your hands scrunch into fists at your side:

"Well. I'm not giving it up. I want Wednesday."

"Neither am I."

"Fuck you."

"In your dreams."

-

Oliver collapses loudly into the open spot at the Gryffindor dining table. His callousness knocks Archie's goblet of pumpkin juice across the shiny wooden surface between dishes of sausages and peas and roast potatoes.

"Bloody hell, what's got you in a mood?" He's patting down the table with a serviette, transforming it into a orange lump under his palm.

Shaking his head, as if it would joggle the thought of you loose, Oliver stabs a chicken drumstick from the top of a nearby pile with his fork. He doesn't respond.

"Wait, let me guess." Archie presses the elbows of his red jumper into the still wet surface beside his plate. "Something to do with your little Hufflepuff sweetheart?"

Oliver grunted around a mouthful, looking annoyed. "Not mine and not a sweetheart. A fucking brat."

Archie seems to find something funny, leaning back on the bench with a haughty laugh. "Right. What she do this time?"

"Wants the pitch the same day as me for practice." He's mumbling around a mouthful of chicken, tipping forward to shove a spoon teetering with peas alongside it. "Refuses to give in, despite the fact that she put me in detention last week with Burbage."

Shifting to the edge of his seat, Archie leans around Oliver's frame to find your figure across the Hall at the yellow-lined table. He nods, seemingly finding you. "Yeah, she don't look too happy either."

"I don't care."

Oliver is trying very hard not to give into the itch to look back.

"Whatever," Archie's gaze finds his again. "in better news ... I spoke to the twins just before dinner. They're still on for tomorrow."

He's twitching in his seat, eyebrows dancing and grinning around his words like a kid who's found a matchbox.

Right. The twins.

Specifically, Daisy and Delilah Dawson: two Ravenclaw sisters a year below Oliver.

They're peng, Archie had reasoned, you need a little fling to get your mind off quidditch. You're too strung up, mate.

And sure, they were, but Oliver had more important things to do than gallivant across Hogsmeade attached to the hip of some sixth year who just wants to earn her I Kissed The Quidditch Captain! badge.

He'd groaned and whined and glowered at the prospect. Was it petulant? Naturally, but spending five sickles on subpar hot chocolate and making false conversation with some Ravenclaw was a waste of precious time in Oliver's humble opinion.

His priorities are, as they've always been, crystal clear in his mind.

1. Win Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup 2. Refer to point (1)

There was little wiggle room for the introduction of girls into any spot on that list.

You're the only one who came almost close to the tight list. Only because if there had to be a third priority, "shove winning the cup in Hufflepuff's face" might just crack it. He thought about you significantly more than any other girl in the castle and maybe that might mean something if he thought about too long about it, but fortunately, he refused to.

Regardless, Archie was adamant and more than a little pathetic when he mentioned that Daisy only agreed to see him if he had a date for Delilah. It was all settled very quickly.

And it's in this show of loyalty to his dearest friend that Oliver finds himself walking the cobblestone path down into Hogsmeade on a crisp Saturday morning.

The little village is bustling with students - it normally is - and the crowd has him knocking shoulders with Delilah who's walking in step beside him.

He's uncomfortable to find that she's staring dreamily up at the underside of his jaw.

On Oliver's other side: Archie is talking Daisy's ear off, making another pitiful attempt at holding her hand. He doesn't quite manage it and Oliver can't tell whether it's because she genuinely doesn't notice or she just can't be arsed.

"So," Delilah's voice is light and sweet. Delicate. "You mentioned that you take Arithmancy? I've heard it's tough."

Oliver nods airily. "Yeah ... yeah, it's difficult."

He tightens his jacket closer over his frame. The wind is whipping between their bodies and he thinks that maybe she didn't hear him over it's howling if her confused expression is anything to go by. He finds he's not bothered enough to repeat it.

The entrance of Madam Puddifoot's comes into view at the end of the walkway.

Oliver’s relieved. It's freezing out here and maybe he'll be more in the mood for flirtatious conversation once he's gotten some food in his stomach (Archie had insisted they skip breakfast: we have to order something to eat, so we can sit longer).

There's a jingle of a bell overhead when Archie pushes the door open, standing awkwardly aside to let the ladies in first.

Inside the shop, it's more than busy: powdery blue walls barely visible beyond the sea of Hogwarts couples crammed around tiny circle tables and waiters in red uniform knocking the back of their chairs with wobbling trays.

There's music coming from ... somewhere, it sounds like The Weird Sisters and at the sound, Oliver can't imagine how this morning could possibly go any worse.

Oh wait, yes he can.

You could be sitting at a table right by the door across a too-small-table knocking knees with some Slytherin prick. Like you are right there right now.

Delilah tugs on his wrist, it's gentle and he almost doesn't feel where he's being lead between tables towards an open booth across the room. He falls unceremoniously down against the torn leather, eyes never leaving your table.

You haven't noticed his presence, he knows because your lips are stretching around a giggle he can't hear but can already imagine. You don't smile around him, that's for sure.

Oliver's stomach is frothing and bubbling and he's trying really hard to tune back in where Archie's knocking a menu into his hand.

Of course you're there. To ruin his mood and his day, because you're just bloody perfect at it.

"So, am I seeing you girls at the Quidditch match on Saturday?" Archie's voice carries somewhere over his head.

Delilah laughs. Or maybe it's Daisy, Oliver doesn't look.

"Maybe," she says, "Depends if Oliver's gonna be there. You're gonna be there, right?"

He feels a hand nudge at his forearm. Definitely Delilah.

His gaze floats back over the table to offer a fraction of eye contact, he nods. "Oh, uh ... yeah. Sure, definitely."

Archie saves him by speaking again and your table finds Oliver's attention just in time for him to watch the boy sitting across from you swipe away a smudge of hot chocolate over your cheek. You smile, looking bashful and a little bit flushed.

A suffocating, searing heat rushes from the soles of Oliver's feet up between his every organ and over every tendril of hair on his head. His jaw tightens.

Of course he recognises the pratt across you.

Ryo Yoshida.

Every girl in the castle's wet dream, if the rumours he's heard are anything to go by. With his fucking sleek black hair and his Japanese accent that had witches flocking to him in the dozens.

He doesn't wonder why you're here with him.

Oliver is a proud man, but even he could admit that you're beautiful. Albeit reluctantly.

With your wide wet eyes that make him a little sick in a way that turns his stomach warm and the way you do your hair and those fucking dangly earrings that clink when you loose your cool on him.

That's without even mentioning the sound of your laugh - the one he only ever overhears - and your legs in the school uniform skirt and the way you look when you're diving on your broom under the light of a sunny day.

Alright, maybe he couldn't admit to all of it ... but you were okay.

Okay enough to crack a date with Ryo Yoshida or any other schmuck in the castle if you wanted.

"Anything good to eat here, Oliver?"

He pretends he doesn't hear her at first, but the kick at his shin under the table is harder to ignore.

Archie is glaring at him across the table. Dude, don't fuck this up for me.

Oliver's eyes find Delilah. She's scooted up close under his elbow and, to be fair to the poor girl, she was pretty too. Red lipstick smeared across her smiling lips, painted nails edging closer to his arm and perfectly styled hair sitting over her shoulder.

He nods, reaching for the menu: "Yeah. Actually, last time I had the Merlin Meal and it was pretty good."

She perks up, cherry red smile widening at his reply. "Oh, I thought that looked good!"

Training his eyes on the menu, Oliver wills himself not to look back at you. You're already souring his mood and you haven't even said a bloody word.

It's just what you do. What you do to him: infuriating him with the threat of an argument around any and every corner.

The waiter comes by and Oliver finds himself generous enough to gift Delilah with an arm draped over the back of her seat. She giggles and he pretends he doesn't notice when she mouths something that looked suspiciously like 'he's so hot' to her sister across the table.

Archie seems pleased too. Daisy has granted him, finally, her hand and his arm bends at an awkward angle to maintain the grip in hers under the table. He's positively beaming.

But despite Oliver’s best efforts to stay engaged, he still catches himself - only when it's too late - and his eyes are already glued to watching the way your jeans are hugging your thighs where you shift in your seat.

Your table is sat by the door. The chime of the bell calls for his gaze every time it tolls and every time he finds you let off a violent shiver in your seat as the autumn crisp rolls over your shoulders.

The door shuts again and you still.

Oliver can feel where the tips of his ears are burning red and his bones are itching: Ryo’s black suede coat is hanging over the back of his chair.

You’re still talking - hands rubbing together, fighting for warmth - he’s leaned over with his chin in palm to listen and his jacket sits unused behind his shoulders while you fucking shiver in the breeze.

It’s pathetic, really. He’s not sure whether he’s referring to himself or you: but Oliver is still looking and you’re still shaking like a leaf and he’s halfway to flipping tables to get to you and just give you his own fucking coat so you’ll stop shaking and stop annoying him—

“Oliver was just telling me about wanting to join the Hogwarts Choir.” He turns again to find Archie waiting with an expectant face, it's laced in a little bit of smugness: caught you. "Weren't you, mate?"

When he looks back you’re gone.

There's a short pile of sickles abandoned on the table and he hopes that Ryo at least had the good sense to pay for your drink after forcing you to sit in the freezing cold.

He shakes the thought off. Who cares.

In fact, he hopes you catch a cold.

-

The day passes like swimming through molasses: slow and sticky and exhausting.

It's nearly seven when Oliver presses a sympathy kiss into Delilah's cheek - Daisy allows for no such thing from Archie - and the two sisters skip off down the west wing corridor with a wiggle of their fingers over their shoulders at the boys.

"I think that went well." Archie's grinning, hands on his hip and glasses edging down his brown nose.

It's the first thing that genuinely brings a jolt of life out of Oliver all day. He teeters back on his heels, hands gripping his stomach where he laughs. Laughs like a madman.

"I think you need to get yer fucking head checked, mate."

The tail end of his outburst is simmering down, now barely a breathy chuckle, when a voice washes over him from down the other end of the corridor. "Wood!"

He'd recognise that voice anywhere. From the dead of sleep or the depth of the ocean.

He's slow when he turns on his heel, the remnants of his smile dripping all the way off the edge of his jaw until he's nearly frowning.

You're jogging, scarf bouncing at your shoulder with the movement, and coming to a stop right under his chin.

"What?"

There's a sharp edge to his tone - there always is - but he really hopes you haven't noticed how the syllable wobbled at the end. Now that you're right beneath his frame and not across the room, it's harder to ignore the lashes kissing at the corner of your eyes. You're wearing lip gloss and he knows it's for Ryo.

His stomach is churning and your face is twisting into something he is struggling to recognise.

"I--" your hands wring, eyes flickering behind to where Archie's watching curiously (you wave awkwardly). "You ... you can have Wednesday."

It's not what Oliver is anticipating. He almost takes a full step back in surprise.

"Why?"

Your eyes roll in a comfortably familiar way, "Because Hooch wants an answer tonight and one of us had to be the bigger person."

His brow tightens, eyes roving down the stitching of your sweater. It's cute. He's quiet.

"You not gonna argue?" You throw your words quickly, snatching them back before he can answer: "Perfect. I'll send her an owl before bed."

You're marching back down the corridor before he has chance to say anything else and he's watching your retreating figure with the hope - that he’s not gonna address - you’re not going to cozy up somewhere in the Slytherin dorm room.

“Well.” Archie’s running a hand over his thick black curls. “That was unexpected.”

Oliver huffs. “It’s been a weird day.”

-

An uneasy air has settled over Hogwarts.

It came in like a storm front, drifting in on the wind that dropped the article at the door of the castle. 

The same copy of The Daily Prophet has been doing the rounds between dormitories and class rooms all week: Sirius Black, Azkaban’s most infamous prisoner and recent escapee, has been sighted in Dufftown by an astute Muggle, The Daily Prophet reports. 

Dufftown. A barely twenty minute ride by carriage from Hogwarts bridge. 

It’s got the castle on edge, it’s got you on edge. Creeping around the castle like Sirius Black is gonna jump out from around any corner. 

Dumbledore stationing dementors at the edges of the castle was the tipping point for the cold drip of trickling fear in your chest that's become easy to ignore in daylight - when Cherry and Enzo are flittering around you between classes - but in moments like these, like now, when you’re on the tail end of a quidditch practice, grow like a poisonous black vine up around every nerve in your body. A Monday night, the team’s kit weighing heavy in your arms - broomstick tucked precariously in the bend of one elbow - and following the siren call of the dormitory showers. 

You’d promised the team you’d get them to the house elves before the upcoming match on Saturday. The match against Gryffindor. 

But for tonight, they’re gonna live in a pile at the end of your bed. 

You’re exhausted: calves burning, sweat sticking loose hairs to your forehead and probably smelling like wet socks and broomstick polish. 

The touch of night is suffocating the flicker of the corridor lamps. It’s long past the recently set curfew and you know that if McGonagall finds you out you’re likely in deep enough trouble to get you off Saturday’s match roster. 

Despite the prospect, you don’t dwell on it. You find you’re more worried about escaped Azkaban convicts: the echo of your own footsteps setting you further on edge. 

You’ve craned your neck over your shoulder enough times to form a knot there. Each time you’re relieved to find that Sirius Black hasn’t crept up behind you. 

Suddenly, the squeak of your boots against the stone floor are un-alone. 

Someone is marching and right in your direction. Your heart bangs wildly on the inside of your ribcage - blood turning to an icy slurry in your veins, but you don’t move. 

The corner is sharp when the figure turns into the corridor you stand and the scream is halfway out your throat when your eyes find his face. 

Absent is the matted black hair and sunken eyes you’re anticipating. Instead, warm brown rings reflect the fire of the lit torches. 

Your broomstick clutters to the floor, warm relief flooding down to your fingertips. “Fucking hell, Wood.” 

He looks just as surprised as you. Only for a moment, though, before his gaze is tightening in annoyance again. 

“I thought you were Sirius Black.“ 

“Well that’s stupid isn’t it.” 

You huff, shifting the weight of the team’s robes precariously between your arms: squatting to try scoop up your broomstick off the floor again. You’re halfway successful when it clatters loudly back against the stone floor. 

“What are you even doin’ out here so late? You know curfew is passed, don’t you?” His voice curls with something that might be mistaken for concern if you didn’t know who you were talking to. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

You’re reaching down again. A robe on the top of the pile slips off, landing beside the broomstick. 

“Aye right. Whatever, goodnight.” 

He’s brushing past you. 

In a movement neither of you anticipated, driven by the fear shooting up your spine again, your hand finds his wrist. “Wait—“ 

Oliver freezes: eyes dropping to where you’re connected. You rip your hand back, as if scalded. 

“I …” the words mash and wrestle at the back of your throat. “Could …”

You glance down the darkened corridor awaiting you in the journey back to your dorm before meeting his face again. It’s unreadable. 

His brow scrunches. “Yes?"

"Could you want me to walk my common room?” 

Embarrassment sears at your cheeks. On a normal day, you’d sooner go dancing naked under the Whomping Willow before asking Oliver Wood a favour but that was before the image of Sirius Black swum behind your eyes everywhere you looked. 

Oliver would be fairly useless if faced with the criminal, naturally, but at least you wouldn’t die alone. 

“Please?” Your voice is quiet and you think it’s the gentlest word you’ve ever said to him. 

There’s a long stretch of quiet. His eyes flicker between your face and the broomstick on the floor. It’s quickly stretching past the blurring boundaries of an appropriate time for consideration. 

You’re practically melting in embarrassment now, electing to make the decision for him. 

“Never mind.” You squat again, successful this time in sticking the broomstick back under your arm. The dropped robe is more difficult but you manage to replace it. “Forget I asked.” 

Oliver’s moving before you’re stood straight up again. He’s reaching for your broomstick, you instinctively yank it back but he sticks you with a firm look and his thumb is unexpectedly soft where it caresses over your knuckle wrapped around the handle. 

Your grip loosens and he perches the broomstick over his shoulder with ease. He surprises you again by taking half the load of laundry in your arms into his own. 

“C’mon, before someone catches us out here. I’m not doing any more detention because of you.” 

He’s already three feet ahead when blood rushes down to your legs, prompting them to chase after his figure. The movement is easier, lightened by Oliver’s surprise act of kindness. 

You fall into step beside him, half-tempted to comment on his willingness to share your burden, but knowing him, one wrong word and he’d dump it all back into your arms. 

It’s quiet. 

You don’t make a move to talk and Oliver doesn’t look your way. It dawns on you that Gryffindor dormitory is in the other direction and you’re still deciding whether to feel guilty or flattered over the fact when Oliver speaks. 

“Why’re you out here alone?” 

You look, met with the side of his face: it’s still like he hadn’t said anything at all. There’s a tugging instinct to snap at him. 

Why do you care? 

But his tone is perceptibly gentle enough that you think maybe, just this once, it won’t end in an argument. You test the tepid waters. 

“Uh …” your head knocks sideways, tilted as you speak. “I let the team come up early while I sorted the quaffles in the sports closet by the pitch. Didn’t want them walking up in the dark.” 

You’re tempted to mention that it was his team last week that left it in such a mess. You don’t. 

"And now you’re walking in the dark yourself? Smart move, princess."

Your breath hitches. 

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Princess. A couple times over the years, usually in the heat of a spiraling argument, but never so benign. While still ungentle, the tone is soft enough that it rings in your ears.

You choose not to succumb to the antagonization of his reply. Humming, you shrug. "Rather me than them."

His eyes flicker, almost barely, to the high apple of your cheek. You notice in the corner of your eye how his jaw twitches, like he wants to say something. 

He seemingly decides otherwise because he focuses his eyes ahead of him and stays silent. 

The overhanging ceiling art is sloping down, air going sticky with the scents of the kitchen the further you go: it’s the trademark of the approaching Hufflepuff common room. 

Another two turns and it will be the end of your little journey with Oliver Wood.

"‘M surprised Ryo didn’t walk you up."

You're more surprised than you've been since finding him, eyes widening in confusion. He grants you another look out the side of his eye.

"How do you know about that?"

Oliver shrugs, shifting your broomstick to the other shoulder.

"The whole world saw your little date down at Madam Puddifoot's the other day."

Of course. Word travels faster through seventh year than a new Firebolt.

"Yeah. Well." You hum. "That's not gonna be happening again anytime soon.” 

It had all been good and well. The rush of having Ryo Yoshida, Hogwart's most eligible bachelor, ask you out and - to be fair - the date had been fine. Ryo was funny and made good conversation but nothing near thrilling enough to daydream over and you'd allowed yourself to brush over a couple red flags because of it, until Cherry came bursting into your dormitory less than a day after your date relaying how he'd caught her between classes to ask her out to the same spot.

"Why's that?"

You're confused now, why Oliver cares or how he'd become curious enough to actually ask. You're even more confused as to why you decide to answer him. You shrug, "He asked Cherry out the very next day. She said no, obviously, but that was enough to let the whole thing go."

You expect him to say something malicious, quip something spiteful about What you did you think would happen? You're nowhere near in his league.

He doesn't.

"He's an idiot."

Not for the first time in the last five minutes, you're not sure what to say. You think this is the longest a conversation has gone without an argument. You sigh, "Yeah."

The stack-up of barrels comes into view. You dig into you the deep pocket on the inside of your robe, emerging with your wand.

Oliver stops, eyes flickering between the barrels and his shining black boots.

You step ahead, tapping the barrels in the rhythm that's become second-nature and the entryway opens.

Turning to him, you offer out an arm and he sets the robes back into your hands. The awkwardness is stifling. He leans forward, tucking the broomstick under your arm, hand wavering to make sure it doesn't fall again. The gesture makes the hold in your knees wobbly.

He nods. "Right. Goodnight."

You nod back, so quickly that you hear your earrings jingle. "Yeah, g'night."

Oliver turns, marching back the way you came and you watch him: biting your bottom lip so hard you're half expecting to draw blood.

"Thank you!" It leaps from your mouth before you have you moment to let it marinate on your tongue. You wince immediately.

He pauses, turning halfway on his heel. He smiles, it's not wide enough for teeth, but definitely wide enough to have your heart falling through your stomach. He nods again and then he's gone.

-

Saturday arrives gloomy and dripping.

It makes for good quidditch conditions, but the chill in the air is still hard to ignore when you step out into mushy grass under stadium lights. The roar of the crowd nearly deafens you, but it'll only take a couple minutes in the air for it to burn down to a soft hum.

In the middle of the stadium floor: Hooch is standing with a whistle to her lips, her figure blurred by the drizzle. Oliver stands beside her, and behind you, your team is clambering onto their brooms and rising into the air with the freshly washed kit over their backs.

You go to walk, but the icy glance Oliver is sending your way convinces you into a jog. He's always impatient before a game, itchy, antsy.

"On time as usual." Hooch hums when you land beside her.

"Got the whole bloody school waiting on her." Oliver mutters but Hooch shrugs him off, pulling the game coin out from inside her robes.

"Perfect." She positions it so we can see, "Gryffindor?"

Oliver straightens out, chest swelling: "Heads."

Hooch nods and before you can suck in another breath, the coin is in the air. She catches it with a skilled hand, flipping and revealing it to the set of captains.

"Hufflepuff, first ball!" She shouts loud enough that the floating players can hear. They nod, some groaning.

The coach turns back on the captains, "I want a fair game kids, no fighting."

"Me and Ollie? Fight?" You smile, "Never, coach."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Yes, coach."

Suddenly you're above the pitch, sucking in breaths of wet air and struck with that familiar feeling like you could conquer the world on just your broomstick.

The quaffle flies and you stoop to catch it, twisting around Alicia Spinnet to snatch the ball before she's even noticed you're there.

Rain pelts on heads and the game goes on.

Oliver is shouting like a madman from his place in front of the goals behind you - you’ve long learnt to drown it out. He does it half to annoy his own team and half to distract yours. 

You're spinning, flying, swooping and - as you predicted - the crowd has become a distant call, a blurring sight of yellow and red.

An hour passes and the game is already halfway into the next when there's a rise in the crowd. It's not the normal yells and whoops and hollers, but you still don't look up: you're calling over to Jane and Wyatt, your beaters.

“Get between the twins, and stay there!” 

Below, Harry Potter and your own seeker, Cedric Diggory, are flying in circles around each other. The call of Cedric's name is on the tip of your tongue when there’s another ripple of sound off the crowd and this one draws your eyes. It’s there for a second before you find the army of figures descending on the pitch. 

Your breath catches in your throat, freezing solid so you can’t swallow. 

The dementors are even more ghostly this close. You'd never seen so many.

A darkness is permeating the air, the sight of the supporters in the stand dissipating into black. They’re floating in from every corner, drifting at a pace that’s too fast for you to make a move in any direction. 

There’s a scream and your gaze finds the body falling through the sky: it’s Harry.

The ground is racing up to meet him and adrenaline drives your hand to tip your broom, to chase after his quickly disappearing shape when a blurry figure blocks your way. 

Someone yells your name but you don’t hear it. 

You’d never imagined examining a dementor, much less this up close, but even if you had: nothing your imagination could conjure up would ever come close to the harrowing darkness of its empty eye-sockets. 

Its silhouette spreads over every corner of your vision, black like night and blocking the view of the sky. Your nose is so close you could tip forward and meet it's silken cloak.

A cold washes over your body like you've never felt, like you're freezing over: ice creeping up your fingertips, shoulders and face.

Your brain looses all grip on thought, replaced with a seeping dread. It barely acknowledges where a scabbed, decomposing hand is reaching out to you.

Charcoal fingertips brush your cheek when you're tugged back, all the way off your broomstick.

There's not even a last coherent thought to panic when you're engulfed in a warm chest, a hand stabilising around your waist onto a new broomstick. It dips and the green grass is reaching up to you.

The new heat engulfs you through to your bones. You grasp blindly for the expanse of a thick veined neck, wrapping yourself around him.

Digging your face into his shoulder, it takes one glance at the scarlet robes to know who it is. Oliver's panting, one hand holding you against him while the other steers the broomstick down to the floor.

You're trembling, no thought occupying any space beyond Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver--

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

The voice is distant, said against your temple but echoing as if from the end of a long corridor. You don't register where hot tears are wetting your cheeks, erupting over your face without being called.

His words prompt you closer: a tight arm furling over his shoulders and wrapping around him like a vine around an old tree.

"O-Oliver ..."

The hand over your waist tightens. "Sh ... it's fine. You're fine."

The broomstick lands shakily, Oliver's boots squelching into muddy grass. You barely realise you're back on ground when another hand is tugging you off, but you cling tighter to the sweaty red neck: shaking your wet face against his well-pressed robes.

"C'mon, princess ..." His calloused hands pry you from him, gently like you're a piece of china sitting on the very edge of a high shelf. "It's Pomfrey, she's gonna look after you."

You think you feel a kiss press into your hairline before you're being scooped up into a new set of arms. Madam Pomfrey is warm too, smelling like antiseptic and maple syrup.

There's another swell of noise erupting from the supporters above and you're being lead away.

Oliver watches your figure, slumped against the school nurse until you've disappeared into the medical tent.

His heart is going wild, slamming against the walls of his ribcage. Beside him his hands are shaking and he's sucking in thick gulps of air, he finds it still isn't enough oxygen.

There's another splatter where Angelina has landed a few feet behind him. She's panting too, tugging on the edge of his robes and pointing up into the sky.

"Wood!" She's frantic, "They won, Cedric caught the snitch!"

His mouth is dry when he swallows. Rain catches in his eye when he looks up, half the Hufflepuff team is no longer in the sky and the Gryffindors are all on their way down.

"I ..." feeling is returning to his fingertips, "is ... where's Harry?"

Angelina points in the direction of the medical tent. Above, the pitch is engulfed in a bright white light and Oliver catches the wispy end of a shining phoenix chasing between disappearing Dementors. It's a patronus. Dumbledore's, Oliver figures somewhere in his muddy brain.

"Is everyone else okay?"

Angelina nods. Her eyes flicker to the medical tent then back at him. "Is she?"

The image returns to him: the mass of darkness engulfing your figure in the sky. The terror that ripped through him like he was being torn apart from the inside, the whistle of the wind that stung over his ears and how it blocked out his mutterings of please, please, please--

He shakes his head. "She's too tough for her own good. She'll ... she'll be fine."

But it comes out like he's trying to convince himself more than Angelina.

-

Oliver doesn't see you for a few days.

Two, to be exact, and his skin itches the entire time. A deep itch, like it's coming from his bones.

It's only on Monday evening at dinner, with the Hufflepuff table whooping, that you come strolling back into the light of his eyes.

Your head is down, flushed with all the attention, and when you sit, kids are rising from their seats to tackle you into side hugs. He can tell you're embarrassed but he can't gather himself enough to care: the warm rush of relief flooding his stomach so much so that if he dared open his mouth it would all come rushing out.

You look fine. All limbs attached and smiling, it settles him.

He doesn't snap at Archie when he knocks his shoulder with a "you're staring" and his dinner suddenly looks more appetising when he peels his eyes off your figure down to his plate. He finds that he doesn't care as much as he usually does where Enzo's lanky arm is strung over your shoulder.

The week passes in a flurry.

While you share several classes, Oliver doesn't share a single word with you. It's hard not to notice that you're working very hard not to interact with him.

In Muggle Studies, you arrive late and keep your nose tucked deep into the pages of a textbook he knows you couldn't care less about. You're up and out of the classroom before he's even zipped up his bag. It's the same in Potions and Arithmacy.

While going days without talking to each other is not unusual, this time he can tell it’s on purpose. He pretends that he doesn't care.

The rain has cleared and when Friday arrives the sunset is red and orange and purple, granting Oliver with a rare enchanting view out his bedroom window where it's setting behind the East tower.

It's in this quiet, peaceful moment that Archie comes bouncing in with some news of a party happening in the Ravenclaw dormitory.

He's indifferent but Archie is nothing if not convincing.

"Come on, dude. You're literally a hermit crab." He sighs, falling back against his own poster bed across Oliver's. "There will be girls."

"There's girls everywhere, Arch."

His eyebrows wiggle, "And alcohol."

It takes a bit more pestering and the Weasley twins rushing in after him with the same news (and a far less patient approach) to get him up off his bed.

He digs in his cupboard for the last pair of clean jeans and a somewhat suitable purple jumper, tugging them on with a grumble, before he's being dragged by both arms - a twin on each side - across the castle to the West tower wherein resides the Ravenclaw population.

The common room is bustling with seventh years, he recognises them from all houses, and a table set up to the side with some trays of food. He's barely made himself comfortable when Katie Bell is shoving a red solo cup into his hand:

"It's Angelina's brew." She informs him.

He can believe that. The liquid is strong, burning down his throat followed by the barely there after-taste of pumpkin juice. Oliver downs the whole thing in one go.

The music swells louder and he's three cups of Angelina's concoction deep when you come tumbling through the entrance portal.

You're drunk yourself, he can tell by the way you're giggling and half leaning on Cherry Stretton. Bumping through people, not passing without leaning back to apologise to them tipsily, you head straight into the arms of Angelina and Alicia Spinnet. They smile in surprise, engulfing you in their arms.

Despite his and your long-held rivalry, it had done nothing to stop the rest of his team from sweetening up to you. The twins called you their favourite yellow tie at regular intervals and the girls found you nothing less than endearing. Oliver could lie and say he hated it.

Instead, he wrestles his way to where Katie is situated with more to drink, filling his cup and downing it.

-

The room is twisting in a flurry of colours and faces and it's the lightest you've felt in almost a week. You giggle against Enzo, his dreads tucked safely back in a bun while Cedric sets a Dragon-Barrel Brandy shot on fire and hands it carefully over.

Enzo's head knocks back, slipping the burning liquid down his throat with a wince. There's a cheer at his accomplishment, and suddenly Cedric's knocking your elbow: "you're next, Cap!"

After the match-gone-wrong, Madam Pomfrey had held you down in the infirmary until Monday morning. You were fed copious amounts of chocolate - in the form of bars and drinks and cakes and ice creams. By Saturday night you were - surely a couple kilograms heavier - and feeling fine, but Pomfrey was nothing if not paranoid:

"That was no light ordeal you went through, dear. I'm not letting you out of my sight until I'm happy with you."

In all honesty, you'd prefer if the whole school forgot it ever happened.

If Pomfrey didn't fret and your friends didn't come by every meal time and your team stopped sending you get better! letters and nobody mentioned it ever again.

More than anyone, you wished Oliver would forget. The ordeal, or maybe just you as a person.

You'd made a stupid decision under the heat of stadium lights and the influence of racing adrenaline, trying to chase for Harry, and he'd made a stupider decision coming to save you from yourself.

When it got quiet in the infirmary past dusk and Harry's shadowy figure was long since snoring in the bed across yours, you could feel Oliver's touch. Could feel it's strong hold wrapped around your waist and the voice against you the back of your neck and the lips at your temple.

You never reminisced long: for with his touch came the writhing, scalding fear burrowing a hole in your chest.

He could tease you, he will tease you.

Oliver had saved you from the clutches of a dementor moments from your soul being sucked out your body and you'd cried in his chest the whole time, refused to let him go in front of the whole school. It was a mortification you would never live down. And if Oliver decided he was going to use it against you, even once, you were sure you'd melt into the floor in shame.

It's what's made the Firewhiskey and Lemon squash concoction Cherry had handed you back in her room so easy to toss back. It stung and steam rose out your mouth where you'd panted for air. There was another ... and another, they went down the same.

The walk across the castle to reach the Ravenclaw Tower had been wobbly and you'd laughed with your friends loud enough to wake up the whole castle you're sure, but it dissolved the fear that clung to your bones. The fear that he was here, lingering between the people in the crowded blue common room.

Now the liquor is fading. Numbing to a dull buzz and you decline Cedric's offer at a burning shot, thinking about how proud you'll be of yourself when you wake up tomorrow morning in bed rather than wrapped around a toilet seat and hauling up guts into the bowl.

The party, not unlike yourself, is dimming.

Students are crawling away into all corners, each with their own excuse. I have a potions essay to do or No, dude, I'm too drunk for this or Flint wants us down at the pitch for drills at eight tomorrow morning, I gotta head to bed.

The crowd, though thinning, is beginning to clump into respective circles across the room. You glance annoyed at the fireplace where the flames crack merrily. Even with your short skirt and thin satin top, the heat of the common room is stifling.

Enzo is on his fourth burning shot, it's lost it's appeal to the crowd but he seems undeterred, knocking Cedric in the shoulder with the empty shot glass motioning: another! You yawn, playing mindlessly with the ruffled sleeve of your shirt.

"Oh no," A harsh tug at your hand draws you from the lure of sleep that's fogging your mind. "The night is young, no yawning!"

Cherry has your wrist in her grip, Enzo's in the other. He blinks blearily down at his friends.

"Huh?"

"Come on," Cherry's brown eyes roll far back in her head. "Fred says they're starting Seven Minutes In Heaven. Let's go join--"

"Seven minutes--?" you laugh between words, "Cher, are you mad?"

She whines, pouting like a kicked dog. "It'll be fun. Besides, when last did you have a good fucking snog? Too long, I say!"

Somehow, you're not only convinced across the room into a spot onto the floor in a circle of a couple others, but a drink has ended up in your hand and its contents quickly down your gullet.

For the nerves, you assure yourself.

Before you know it, Angelina - who's conveniently settled beside you - is topping up your plastic cup with a nearly empty bottle of Daisyroot Draught. "This is the good stuff. Katie stashed it in, her sister works at a brewery."

You smile nervously, nod, and take a tentative sip. The pre-existing buzz in your head convinces you it's not so bad.

In the circle is a couple Gryffindors you recognise, some giggling Slytherin girls, a Ravenclaw you can't name and three members of your quidditch team. There's an open spot on the side you don't take note of.

That is until Archie Kumar is steering a grumpy, visibly drunk Oliver Wood into the open place and collapsing beside him.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart sinking into your stomach like a stone. You're halfway off the floor, suddenly desperate for the loo, when Cherry - on your left side - drags you back down to the floor.

Maybe it's Katie's sister's brew, but you tumble too easily back onto your bum.

"Relax. Just don't look at him, okay?"

You suck in another breath, eyes trained on the white moon outline sewn into the rug. "Yeah ... okay."

It doesn't hold long and when you find the Gryffindor captain again, his gaze is trained on your face. It's stone cold. You gasp quietly and look away.

"Right!" George Weasley is on his feet, setting an empty Firewhisky bottle into the centre. "Who's first?"

Alicia shuffles forward on her knees, the first of the group to move, and the bottle goes spinning. It lands on the Ravenclaw boy. He grins and she does too: Fred wolf-whistles when they stand.

The "heaven" in question is a tall oak cabinet leaning against the back wall of the common room. The pair disappear into its depths and conversation rises again as the circle waits.

You sip your drink in large gulps, trying to hold conversation with Angelina against Oliver's hot gaze that's burning a hole through the side of your face. It's difficult: the Gryffindor girl is so drunk that she's talking with her eyes closed.

Seven minutes later, there's a chorus of "time's up!", Alicia and the boy emerge another ten seconds later. They're rearranging their clothes and Alicia is as scarlet as her quidditch robes. The boy is grinning like the cat who caught the canary. You're suddenly struck with the violent urge to throw up.

The game goes on like that, round after round. Lee Jordan and Jane Emmet (your beater), Katie and Wyatt (your other beater), Cherry and a pretty Slytherin girl you don't know - she's especially chuffed when she returns, red lipstick smeared over her chin.

You're working very hard not to look at Oliver, much less think about him, but it's proving difficult. Every time the bottle takes its spin, your stomach churns.

It had occurred to you during the time that Alicia and that boy were in the closet that there was a very real chance that Oliver could be called up when one of those pretty Slytherins take their turn at the bottle. The thought had made you down the last of your drink and immediately want to vomit it all back up into your cup.

The image of their slender arms curling around his criminally wide-set shoulders, Oliver pushing them back against the inside wall of the grand closet. Would he make noise? Would he sigh or groan against their lips or whisper something about how beautiful they looked tonight in their ears--

"Ollie, you're up mate."

You can't remember who said it, but the words stripped your gaze off Angelina and straight into the pooling brown eyes you'd been avoiding all week long.

He sighed, grumbling under his breath and only with a less-than-gentle nudge from Archie, did he lean up on thighs that flexed unfairly -- bloody hell, stop it! -- and wrap his hand over the neck of the bottle: it went spinning.

The only sound you could hear was the twist of the glass against the woven rug and the hum of your own blood rushing past your ears. It stopped.

"No fucking ways." Enzo cracked from two people down.

A hand landed on your shoulder, shaking you half off your arse: Angelina. "You're up, babe! Go!"

The bottle was pointing irrefutably at your little spot in the circle.

Oliver's face was as white as you'd ever seen it when you dared look up.

"I-I'm not going in with him--" It was the first thing that came to your mind and went spluttering out your mouth.

George was laughing so hard that he'd fallen all the way onto his back. The roar of the group was ear-splitting.

"There's no ways I'm going in with her!"

"Let's end this feud once and for all," Katie bellowed over their heads. "Captain versus captain!"

You're being knocked from all sides, hands crawling under your arms and lifting you off the floor. Across the circle, Oliver is experiencing the same and before you know it: the wooden doors of the cabinet are creaking open.

"Go on!" Lee's finger is piercing your side.

Oliver is beside you but you won't look. You take one last look over your shoulder at Cherry back on the floor, she does nothing but offer a sympathetic shrug and mouths "sorry, dear".

Your hand reaches before Oliver's, flinging the door open with maybe a little too much force. It bangs against the wall behind it.

"Let's get this over with." You mumble, only half concerned that he heard you.

You slouch climbing in, the top is low and the space is even more cramped than what you assumed. To your surprise, Oliver is stepping in after you. He takes his turn at slamming the door, shutting it this time.

It's dark inside, but not enough that you can't see. Light is peaking in through the cracks and he's leaned back against the opposite wall to you.

In the narrow space, your legs are twisting around each other to stand: his one knee situated between yours. In the dimness, he folds his arms and you notice for the first time the jumper he's wearing. The purple one, you recognise it as the one he's had for years. Time has taken its toll where the jumper is clinging to life around his frame, Oliver having grown at least three times wider while the jumper has remained the same size.

"Go on, Wood, give her a kiss!"

The voice is unrecognisable but it knocks your tongue back into your mouth where you'd been ogling at his torso.

His arms are folded, proffering you with a glare that could cut through steel. He makes no visible sign that he'd heard the shout at all. You mirror him, folding your own arms.

"I'm not kissing you."

His head cocks. "Oh, so you're talking to me now?"

You suck in a sharp breath. It's not the response you're anticipating. "What?"

"So we're playing dumb?" He leans just a fraction closer. You can smell the linger of alcohol on his breath, but it doesn't work hard enough to drown out the smell of peppermint that follows him around. "Doesn't suit you, princess."

"I'm not playing anything. I don't know what you're talking about." You double down. It's probably not sustainable but the heat of his body almost against yours and the thrum of liquor in your blood makes the decision for you.

"Y've been avoiding me all week."

"I haven't"

"You're a bad liar."

You swallow hard. Embarrassment is rising again, making your head spin. Oliver's chest is puffed up in anger, you can tell because you've had five years to learn the look like the back of your hand. Except, now - as it has been for a longer time than you care to admit - it's harder to focus on the waves of fury reflecting off of him when his face is just so ... beautiful. Nose scrunched and lips pulled tight into a grimace.

It's what makes you change tactics, you think.

"So what if I was? Why does it matter?"

His arms unfold, eyes rolling so far that his head knocks back against the wood of the cupboard.

"Why?" you press, "Did you miss me, Wood?"

"Maybe I did."

He's looking at you again. For what feels like the hundredth time just tonight, your breath escapes you in a rush and your lungs struggle to grasp back at it. Your face softens without meaning to.

You blink at him.

"You did?" It's a whisper.

His arms are still folded but something clement passes like a shadow over his features.

"No."

His face betrays his words, eyes soft and lip daring to curl up at the edge.

The air in the tight space goes cold. Or maybe it's your blood. It's more likely the look on Oliver's face: like he hasn't just turned your organs to slush. You're all the way sober now.

"I'm not kissing you." You repeat dumbly, but it's gentle.

Merlin, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

"You mentioned." He's almost, almost, smiling. It's gentle too.

The space between you falls quiet. You're suddenly overly focused on the brush of his knee between yours. His swirling brown eyes catch on the split of light creeping in past the hinge on the door.

It stays like that until your voice creeps nervously out. "I was embarrassed. Am, I am embarrassed."

A thick brow tightens in confusion. "Why?"

You huff, almost annoyed. Your eyes train on a dark spot by your intertwined feet. "Come on, Wood."

"What, about the match?" The alcohol thickens his accent.

Your silence seems to answer his question. The apples of your cheeks are warming again.

"What was I supposed to do, leave you to have you bloody soul sucked out yer body?" His voice is rising, "No, princess, I'm not apologising for that."

It's an outpour that you're not expecting. Oliver's clearly in the mood to shock and surprise tonight.

Your lips tighten around the words that are all fighting for the spot at the tip of your tongue. Silence reigns while they argue, he's still watching you with exasperation set into the lines of his face.

"Princess." You settle.

His expression twists again. "What?"

"You always call me that. Why?" It's a question that you buried long ago. But his proximity, in conjunction with the night you've had, unearths it.

It's his turn to look surprised. He grumbles some indiscernable Scottish blabber before-- "It's because y'are a princess. Spoilt and bratty. Always gets her way."

There's no malice to his response, you find. It draws a chuckle from the depths of your chest.

"Aye, right." You mimic his accent and his quip, one he's used many times at you.

He laughs. It's not a sound you hear often and it's setting your whole nervous system alight like a tangled bunch of christmas lights. His whole body's shaking with it, head resting back against the wood again, and you really do think you might grab him and kiss him -- when the door flies open again: seeping his whole body in yellow light.

Alicia's standing at the opening, grin wide as night is wide and clearly expectant on catching you with your tongues down each other's throats.

If she'd given you another three seconds she just might have.

"Oh." She slumps in disappointment, looking back over her shoulder and shaking her head to the expectant crowd. They groan collectively. "Well, love birds, your time is up."

You'd almost forgotten where you were. Oliver clears his throat, the ghost of his laugh impossible to find on his face, and clambers over your legs out into the common room again. He doesn't pass without brushing his hand over yours.

-

It's nearly three in the morning when Enzo finally lets up.

His long legs are sprawled across the midnight blue couch in the middle of the common room. Fiona, a lovely Ravenclaw girl you'd met just tonight, shrugs at you: "Don't stress it. He can crash here tonight."

The party is long since dead. Seven Minutes In Heaven had looped another three rounds before everyone had gotten their chance in the dusty cupboard and began to grumble in boredom.

You'd avoided Oliver's eyes the whole time again, sure that if you looked he'd be able to read the fondness on your face.

It wasn't long after that the last of the students dissolved in the direction of their respective bedrooms. With your dear friend in good hands with the Ravenclaws, you loop your arm with Cherry - knocking against her side towards the portal.

You've barely pushed it ajar when she breaks off you, "Hold on, I need to get my Transfig notes from Jacob!"

"Cher, it's three in the morning?"

Alcohol is directing her legs in the opposite direction clumsily, "I'll wake him. If I fail another quiz, Mcgee's gonna have my arse."

She's gone before she catches your call: "I'll find you outside!"

The portal creaks where you shove it open again. The corridor is dimly lit and colder than the common room and a shiver chases up your exposed legs.

"Bloody hell." You run a hand over your forearms.

It's quiet too, and empty besides the Gryffindor captain leaning against the stone wall closest to the entrance you've just emerged from.

"Merlin," your eyes find his. "Not you again."

The flush over your cheeks is warding off the chill.

Oliver shrugs. "Me again."

An awkward silence permeates. Against better judgement, you shuffle forward, leaning against the wall beside him. He doesn't react, arms folded and staring into the inky abyss of the corridor leading out to the rest of the castle.

"Why're you out here?" You ask, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

"Archie." He huffs out, voice wrapped in annoyance. "He's in there with Penelope. I gave him ten minutes."

Ah, Penelope Clearwater. She'd joined the game in the last round. A good thing too because Oliver's friend was looking more crestfallen as the bottle spun again and again, surpassing him each time. Penelope had taken the last turn, ending up with her hair in every direction and Archie's spectacles leaning half off his face when they emerged from the cupboard.

"You?"

The eddy of average conversation is strange, but you find you like it.

"Cherry." You hum. "Something about quiz notes."

He drops his head back against the wall.

"That what they calling it now?"

It startles you, head tilting to stare up at the side of his face with a grin: "oh, Wood’s got jokes now? I didn’t know it was possible for you to make a joke."

His eyes flutter shut, a twinkle of laughter bubbling out of his frame. Tucking his head down to his chest, he shrugs against his own light chuckle. "I have them. I just don’t share them with you."

You giggle back at him. "Right. Well then you better stop smiling there, someone might walk past and think we’re friends."

He shakes his head, the sound of his snicker fading but leaving behind the imprint of a smile. "Nobody’s gonna think that."

You lean back again, eyes drifting over the low ceiling. Quiet falls again - not uncomfortable - and you let it linger for a moment. A thought tugs on a loose string in your mind, not a new one, but one you’ve carefully buried over time.

It comes falling out your mouth. "You ever think about how it might be ... if things were different?"

The question grants you a look out the side of his eye. "Different?"

"Y’know," you shrug, the very last remains of alcohol are ebbing and unsureness is replacing where it stood. "If we … we had—"

"If you hadn’t suckered me in the bloody nose?" His words are unexpectedly fond.

You laugh at him, "If you hadn’t deserved to be suckered in the bloody nose."

He draws in a long breath, not answering. It prompts you.

"We could have been friends." You whisper, more to your chest than to him really.

But he hears it. "We would never be friends."

It stings sharper than it should. Your shoulders go stiff and the corners of your eyes sting inexplicably, turning the corridor blurry. A dying fire revives in your chest, blistering the cave, reminding you why Oliver Wood has been nothing but a stake in your side since you were thirteen years old.

"Of course. How stupid of me, for a minute I forgot what an absolute arsehole you are." You push off the wall, intent in going to dig out Cherry from the depths of the Ravenclaw dormitory. "Goodnight, Wood."

An arm wraps around your waist, not unlike it'd done a week ago in the air of the quidditch pitch, lurching you into him until you're pressed back against the cool stone of the corridor wall.

Oliver looms over you, crouched so that your nose bumps against his. "Don't sulk, princess."

It all happens at once: his hands grab onto the fat of your hips, digging in there like he really does hate you, and lips crash against yours like maybe he doesn't at all.

He stays there, unmoving for a second that feels a year long.

Where the inside of your brain had been buzzing with runaway threads of thought, ribbons streaking out in all directions: they disappear in a sizzling light. Oliver Wood is kissing me.

You melt against him, tipping up onto your toes and latch onto muscled shoulders. He seemingly takes that as his cue, pressing you closer against his body with his arm - lifting you half off the wall.

He tastes like the remnants of Firewhisky and pumpkin juice, the flavour setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. Lips soft but persistent while his hands grip onto you like you'd dissolve into dust if he didn't.

It's aggressive, but familiar in that way. Oliver is nothing if not hot-blooded and his touch, darting between your hips and your face is turning you tipsy again.

"If you want a friend," It's muffled when he speaks, punctuating his words with hot wet kisses, "go be friends with Ryo."

It's only in this moment, with his desperation mirroring in the glimpses of sugar brown irises you catch where he's fluttering his eyes over your face, that it dawns on you.

"Jealous much?"

He growls lowly and it makes you giggle against him, your hands slithering up into the hairs at the base of his neck. Oliver shakes his head against you, still huffing in disbelief.

"Shut up." It's accent-heavy and bleeds a hole through the bottom of your stomach. "You're such a fucking brat."

"And you're a fucking prick."

He huffs lowly, you press harder to him: solidifying the sentiment. Somehow the bickering makes it all sweeter, like you're dissolving cotton candy against your tongue where his swoops over it.

You'd just about forgotten where you were when a creak echoes down the corridor. Halfway to ignoring it in favour of Oliver's touch, your situation dawns on you in the same moment it does him.

Like you'd both licked the end of a live wire, you and Oliver jolt back a foot, hands diving to your respective sides.

Cherry is standing against the light of the common room behind her, a lanky Archie parked beside her. Their eyes are wide and Cherry's hand is against her jaw in shock.

"Oh my god." She mumbles against it.

Blood is rushing to your face and out the corner of your eye, Oliver is running a hand over the hair that's sticking in all directions from the influence of your fingers.

Cherry is laughing breathily, eyes still wide and white in surprise. "Oh my god."

Archie's eyes are flickering between you and Oliver.

"Sorry to interrupt." He says, a smirk curling onto his features.

It jumpstarts your entire system. You step forward, grabbing Cherry by the arm.

"Well," you nod at Archie and at Oliver, not daring to meet his eyes, "goodnight then."

You march with fervour, half-dragging her in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room until your figure disappears behind the next corridor.

Oliver stands with his hands hanging at his side dumbly. He swipes a finger of his bottom lip, still tasting the strawberry lip gloss you'd left there.

"Can't say I didn't see this coming, mate." A hand claps over his shoulder.

He groans, running both hands over his face, and Archie shakes him lightly.

"So ... how was it?"

With another groan, Oliver shoves Archie's hand off of him. "Bloody hell, Arch."

Archie throws his head of curly black hair back, laughing so loud it bounces off the wall. "That good, huh?"

(part two/final part)

-

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[titaswrld]

seventy-six percent

description: your boyfriend hasn’t fucked you in weeks and you’re tired of it, your best friend fred helps you get laid!

paring: theodore nott x fem! reader fred weasley x reader platonic!

contains: smut! 18+, minors dni, mentions of alcohol, sex, p in v

w.c: 1.1k

|an: came up w this idea last night and i luv luv luv it! hope u guys do too.

“cmon, fred, please? it’s been weeks. i’d do it for you, you know?" you’d said to your best friend, fred weasley, during lunch. it has been weeks since your boyfriend last fucked you. you don’t know why or what’s gone wrong. but you were convinced it was some sick game he was playing. he wouldn’t encourage your sexual behaviors, nor initiate anything, and you were fed up.

although, now that you really think about it, it might’ve been your fault, considering the last pillow talk session you and theo had, you told him jokingly that you’d probably last longer than him without sex.

you lied.

you’re growing desperate. you tried to ease the ache in your lower stomach by attempting to please yourself, but it’s not the same; it’s not him. you can’t put up.

“you’re absolutely nuts if you think i’m going to purposefully make theodore nott jealous. do you want me dead? is that what this is?!” fred exclaimed with a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “you think you know a gal,” he tutted, shaking his head.

you’d pressed your lips into a thin line, reaching into your head to find something that would make fred fold. “i’ll do your homework for a week? two? brew the potions for yours and george’s pranks? "c'mon freddie, be reasonable here.” you’d said with a pout.

“how about covering the cost of my funeral?” he’d deadpanned with a slight smirk. ugh, you’d thought. i guess i’ll have to…

“fine! i’ll do yours and george’s homework for a month so you can work on products. and make sure theo doesn’t do anything rash.” you exclaimed, god, your social life is going to be over, but at least you’ll finally get some dick.

fred’s lips tugged into a wicked grin. "sounds absolutely perfect. see you tonight. pleasure doing business with you, by the way!” he yelled out to you, already walking away, to go grab george and tell him the great news.

you’d sighed, hands holding your head from faceplanting into the hardwood table. it’ll be worth it, you told yourself.

this might, hands down. be the best you’ve ever looked in your life. your low-rise jean mini skirt hugged your hips and thighs perfectly. black long sleeve fitted crop top outlining your breasts and showing just the right amount of stomach, and black knee-high boots covering your calves. you looked to die for.

you do have to admit that you are a little nervous, though. fred and theo are both very unpredictable people. you had just hoped that fred wouldn’t cross the line too much and that theo would do nothing more than drag you up to his dorm and fuck you. considering this is a slytherin party, your chances of this outcome were maybe seventy-six percent?, which is good enough for you!

after overthinking and shuffling through every possible outcome, you finally stepped out of your dorm to meet fred in the common room so you could make your way to the slytherin common room together.

fred took a bow, as if you were queen lizzie herself, and offered you a hand to lead you down the last two steps of the staircase.

“madam?” he’d said in a posh voice, causing you to let out a laugh and take his hand to walk down the last of the steps. as you reached the bottom, he dropped the act and let out a laugh.

“no, but really. you do look good. i’d say there’s a great probability you’re getting laid tonight, with my help especially.” he’d said playfully and nudged you as you both exited the common room together.

“a girl can hope!” you’d whispered, now sneaking around the hallways with him to reach the slytherin common room.

“this is ridiculous!” you whisper-yelled into fred’s ear over the loud music blaring over the common room. you both hadn’t seen theo once tonight, and you and fred have been all over each other all night. getting close, whispering in each other's ears, taking shots together, even dancing together—nothing. the party was now coming to a close, and you still haven’t seen theo.

“i know, you’d think he’d show his face by now, or kick my ass or something" fred responded with his hand placed on the small of your back to get you as close as possible to him, so he could hear you better, of course.

theo had seen everything. he leaned against the wall in front of you covered by dancing bodies. he was alone, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his hand practically crushing the cup full of alcohol he’d had since the party began. he had a sick feeling in his stomach; he couldn’t even try to take a sip of his alcohol; afraid it would give him the courage to stomp over there and beat fred weasley’s ass. he saw everything. the touches, whispers, and dancing. all of it, and now he stood over you, hand on your back, bodies pressed together, whispering into each other's ears over the loud music? that’s enough.

theo stomped his cigarette out, slammed his cup on a nearby table, and made his way over to you and fred.

“you’re coming with me,” he’d said under his breath, grabbing your arm and whisking you away from your friend. shocked, you’d said, and did nothing but let him take you upstairs. you hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell fred bye, but oh well. he’ll be just fine. he did his duty, and you’ll have to do yours too. at least it was a mission accomplished.

“fuck, theo.” you pleaded and moaned against his neck as he pounded into you at a rapid and unforgiving pace, the both of you slick with sweat as you'd been at it for hours.

“you like that? or would you rather have fred’s cock pounding into you like this? huh?” theo growled out as he pulled out, awaiting your response.

“no— no no theo baby please. just you, only you.” you’d babble, hating the feeling of emptiness he’d left you with.

theo plunged his cock back into your wet cunt, continuing his harsh pace and letting out a breathy laugh. “that’s what i thought.”

all you could manage to do was moan and tighten your grip on his shoulders as you both neared your climaxes.

you could feel your brain go absolutely numb as his pace never faltered. you’d managed to breathe out a "theo... im gonna—“

“cum, cara mia. on my cock, baby.” theo said between thrusts, his own release about to reach a close as his hips began to stutter.

“theo!” you’d screamed out as the tightness in your stomach snapped. the yell of his name that escaped your lips, pushing him over the edge as well.

god, now i have double the homework for a month. was your first post-orgasm thought..worth it. was your last as you drifted off to sleep in theos arms.

[nottsangel]

fred and thigh riding,,, him guiding your hips and kissing your neck 😵‍💫

“you’re— you’re not even going to help me?” you ask, your voice trembling with desperation, craving more than just his thigh, as you’ve been eagerly looking forward to feeling him deep inside you all day long. he lets out a condescending chuckle, sitting back with his hands resting behinds his head and a sly smirk on his face. “nah… i’m just here to enjoy the show, darling.” he winks playfully, causing your cheeks to heat up. you eventually take what he offers, figuring it’s better than nothing, and place your hands on his shoulders for support as you begin to rhythmically grind down on his thigh, your hips rocking back and forth.

“feels so good, freddie, fuck!” you moan when he flexes his thigh under you, adding more friction as his hands wander towards your hips, gripping them possessively. “yeah?” he growls, slowly guiding your hips with a tight, controlling grip, bringing you closer to your release as your wetness drips all over his leg, a damp patch forming on the fabric of his pants. “mhmm. so fucking good.” you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut to focus on the feeling, before you suddenly feel fred’s soft lips attached to the skin of your neck, planting wet, lingering kisses. “good girl.”

one of his strong hands grips the back of your head, pulling you closer as he sucks on your neck, marking you with hickeys while his other hand grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements. “tell me what you want, love.” he whispers directly into your ear, his hot breath and the vibrations of his voice on your skin sending shivers down your spine as your sharp nails dig into his skin. “need— need to cum, please” you beg, the pleasure intensifying as his hard, flexed muscles pressing against your aching clit have your head spinning.

“yes, ma’am. whatever you want.” he replies teasingly, practically feeling him smirk against your skin before both his hands find your hips again, speeding up your movements, making you throw your head back with your mouth agape. “you gonna cum all over my leg? hm? naughty girl.” he growls, his words driving you closer to the edge before your orgasm unexpectedly crashes over you, causing you to scream his name as you feel your legs tremble uncontrollably.

“that’s it, sweetheart. there you go.” fred coos soothingly, guiding you through your intense orgasm as you pant heavily, before collapsing onto him and wrapping your arms tightly around him, pulling him as close to you as humanly possible. “hmm. that was so good, freddie.” he smirks, his voice low and teasing. “you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

ੈ♡˳

[mallowsweetmiri]

Strawberry Pie 🍓 ~ F.W.

Part 1 • Black Bikini

Summary: You’re staying at the burrow for the summer like you do every year. All is well expect for the fact that you kind of slept with your long time family friend, Fred Weasley.

Warnings: thigh riding, cursing, mentions of sex

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Your POV:

You woke up in Charlie Weasleys old bed to an unusual amount of chaos coming from a few floors below you. You groaned as you rubbed your eyes and stretched. The morning sun bathed your skin in warmth. You let out a content sigh as you closed your eyes once more. You loved being here, especially since you got Charlie’s old room, the best room. The window next to the bed looked out on the sprawling hills towards the east, a big tree sat in the middle of the view. Little birds chirped in the thick cover of leaves. You heard the patter of footsteps rapidly approaching your bedroom.

“Y/N!” The door busted open to reveal a bounding Hermione Granger with Ginny hot in pursuit behind her. Hermione threw open her arms and squealed as she jump onto your bed to tackle you with a hug.

“Granger! I didn’t know you were coming today, I would’ve gotten out of bed earlier,” you frowned as Ginny and her took seats on your bed.

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you yesterday. You know, too much sun at the beach and then I wasn’t allowed to hang out with you last night,” Ginny glared at you but you just laughed. Ginny couldn’t keep a straight face, but you knew that she really did want to hang out with you and twins last night. She was just too young for drinking games with the twins. And… oh Merlin.

Suddenly, you remembered what had happened last night. George had taken Ginny and Ron back to the house, leaving you and Fred alone on the hillside. One thing led to another and… well… you ending up naked with your oldest family friend.

“It’s okay! Now that you’re awake, we can start our day,” Hermiones voice tore you out of your thoughts.

“Okay, okay I’m getting up now,” you sat up straight and yawned, “what are we doing today?”

“Get dressed and meet us downstairs for breakfast,” she grinned, “we’re going strawberry picking.”

After Ginny and Hermione left your room, you quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a white cami. You checked yourself out in the mirror. You had definitely grown this past school year. The biggest difference was your chest which had filled out significantly in a just one school year. In fact, you really needed a new bra. But besides the physical side of things, you also just felt more mature. You swept your hair up into a loose pony tail, leaving your neck bare and exposed. You fell still as you saw a small purple blotch in the crevice of your neck.

“Shit,” you cursed, tying off your hair and reaching for your wand on the bedside table. You applied some glamour to your neck to hide the mark and then pulled out more than a few strands of your bangs to give you more coverage. You had forgotten that Fred was kissing you all over last night. You saw yourself blush at the thought. You continued to get ready like this. You started brushing you teeth and recalled opening your mouth for Fred last night. You applied lip balm and remembered his wet mouth in between your thighs. You walked downstairs and made yourself swear to stop thinking about it, but you wondered if Fred was in the kitchen too.

As you reached the bottom floor, you saw Molly cleaning in the kitchen and 5 seats taken at the dining room table. The Weasley children and Hermione sat around the table feasting on pancakes, sausage, eggs, potatoes, and toast with jam. You graciously thanked Molly before sitting down to get some grub of your own.

“Okay so after breakfast we’ll leave to walk to the fields. Definitely pack a hat or something to cover yourselves so nobody gets sunburnt. Also I was thinking that after we come back we could bake something with the strawberries,” Hermione spoke with incredible speed while simultaneously spreading apricot jam on her toast. Ron huffed out a smile and took a bite of his own breakfast.

“That sounds great ‘Mione. And while you girls cook, I’ll be taking a nap,” Ron said with a full mouth. Hermione turned to smack him on the arm causing the twins to laugh. Of course this made you look up, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Fred was wearing he wore a simple t-shirt, but it seemed like he was starting to grow out of it. You couldn’t fathom that the twins could grow anymore, they were already a full head taller than you. But there was Fred, leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. His hair had grown out slightly from the year away from home and his face seemed to be more dotted from the summer sun. He met you gaze and gave you a soft smile. You could’ve sworn he was blushing a little.

“What do you think Y/N?” Hermione turned to you to hear your opinion. You cleared your throat and ripped your eyes away from Fred’s.

“Erm- what were we talking about?” You asked with a sheepish half-grin. Hermione raised her eyebrow at you.

“What should we bake this afternoon?” She asked, sweeping her eyes to Fred as he sat back with a noticeable grin on his face. Merlin, couldn’t he keep that smile off his face for two seconds? It was hard to think.

“Hmm, strawberry pie,” you grinned as you sat up to bring your plate to the sink.

“Mm, that sounds simply divine,” George said in his best posh voice, standing up to join you by the sink. Fred gathered his plate as well.

“Indeed, George. That sounds delicious,” he crossed the kitchen to put his dish in the sink, “and I do like to have something sweet after dinner.” His arm brushed against yours. Immediately the contact made the hairs on your arm stand up. Since when did that happen? When did Fred start making you feel this type of way?

Maybe since his head was buried between my legs and he used his pretty mouth to give me the best orgasm of my life, you thought to yourself, making yourself blush a crimson shade of red. You cleared your throat and made your way onto the front porch. You sat down on the bench and began putting on your boots, you knew the fields would be muddy. The screen door swung open and Fred turned towards you with a half smile. As soon as you guys looked at each other, both your faces flushed red and you looked away. Fred took no time to recover and made his way over to sit next to you. Suddenly your boot zipper was extremely fascinating.

“I’m glad to see you up in this morning, Y/N. I was afraid the fire whiskey had gotten to you,” he teased, putting on his own boots.

“I don’t think it would’ve been the fire whiskey that took me out,” you mumbled, color running into your face again. At this point, you were sure you looked like a tomato, and you could hardly look up at Fred. You had a small moment of panic, what if last night ruined everything? Fred’s chuckle took you out of your doubts.

“Take a breathe, Y/N. You look like you’re about to faint,” Fred laughed as he took a look at your face. You smacked his arm and let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. Your mouth couldn’t help but curve into a smile. That always seemed to happen around Fred. The two of you fell into a small silence as you both finished tying your boots. The door burst open as the rest of the gang piled out onto the porch to put their shoes on. You gathered some baskets and passed them around before the 6 of you set out towards the fields. They were right next to the burrow, but they spanned for acres. You and Fred naturally hung back from the group and strolled at a leisurely pace.

“Summers here are truly amazing,” you sighed, breathing in the fresh breeze. Fred smiled down at you.

“Truly, and I have a feeling this summer is going to be the best one yet,” Fred hummed as he veered right towards a particularly abundant bush.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Freddie?” You skipped up next to him and began picking berries. You figured you already knew the answer but you wanted to hear him say it. Half of your mind was still convinced that last night hadn’t happened at all.

“Well I told you, Y/N. I’m going to make you mine this summer,” he said this so casually, you almost didn’t hear him. You’d completely lost interest in the berries at this point.

“Fred,” you tested. You almost thought he was joking, but his face was dead serious. His expression was something you rarely saw on the face of a Weasley twin. “Are you serious?”

“Look at my face,” he said, pointing up at himself, “do I look like I’m joking.” He did not, but it only took about one second of his seriousness to cause both of you the keel over laughing. You dropped your basket which Fred promptly picked up for you. As you grabbed the basket from him, your eyes locked. It felt serious again.

“Fred, I don’t want to ruin anything while I’m here this summer. Even if last night was... I don’t want anything to go badly…” you trailed off, feeling vulnerable in front of your best friend. He only stepped closer to you and put his hand on your cheek. Even though he’d been inside you only last night, this felt more intimate than anything you’d done before.

“Just trust me, Y/N. Nothing is going to be ruined,” Fred whispered. His finger ran along your cheek, behind your ear, and down the side of your throat. He chuckled, “except maybe your neck.” You blushed and swatted his hand away.

“Can you see it? I thought I covered it this morning,” you grumbled, rubbing your neck as if to wash off the mark.

“I can only see it because I was looking for it. Don’t worry, you can keep up your little goody two shoes act,” Fred teased, flicking a strawberry your way. You rolled your eyes and smiled at his words. The two of began to walk toward the group once more. Ginny was laughing her ass off.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, strolling up next to Ginny. You soon saw why she was laughing. Ron was frowning, sinking into a mud hole, his boot stuck in the mush and filled with mud.

“He’s such an idiot,” Ginny barked, pointing at her brother. Hermione tried to stifle her laughs.

“Oh, come on now, Ginny. Let’s help Ron out,” George said, stepping up to grab Ron’s arm. Ginny grinned and grabbed his other hand.

“On three,” George said, “one… two… three!” The two of them tugged on Ron before releasing him back into the mud. He fell with an oof as the rest of you broke down in laughter.

“You guys are actually the worst,” Ron grumbled, throwing a handful of mud at Fred.

“Hey! What did I do?” Fred exclaimed, grabbing a handful of mud at slinging it at Ron.

“Oh, fuck,” Ron said as George pelted him with another handful. It took about 3 seconds before everyone was covered in mud, howling with laughter as you continued to pelt each other with mud pies. Your fun lasted all of two minutes before a shrill yell came from the house,

“What in Merlin’s name do you kids think you’re doing!”

Molly Weasley was marching out of the burrow and towards the strawberry fields. You all stopped. You let the mud slip out of your fingers and slop onto the ground.

“Come here right this instant!” She yelled, stomping her foot and pointing towards the ground she stood on. You looked towards Ginny who whispered, “oh shit.” The six of you started to head back towards the house, the twins grumbling to themselves.

“Its like she’s allergic to fun,” you heard George whisper, Fred laughing and elbowing him in the side.

“Seriously don’t make me laugh. We can’t get in trouble this summer,” Fred whispered back, earning an eye roll from George. His eyes looked back to you for a second, and you wondered if he knew about last night. He probably did.

“You kids are trouble! I thought you were going to go pick strawberries, not roll around in the mud!” Mrs. Weasley scolded, making Hermione drop her head in shame. “Go clean up in the pond-”

“But Mum! There are frogs in there!” Ron whined, earning a glare from his mother.

“I don’t care, you lot are a bunch of frogs. You’re not allowed back in the house until all the mud is off of you. You tried not to laugh at her sass as you walked towards the pond. Ron was grumbling to Ginny about this was her fault and Hermione looked like she was going to cry.

“Don’t worry, ‘Mione. She’s not really mad. Once we bake her a delicious pie she’ll forget all about this,” you smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. She swallowed and nodded. That girl was too sweet for this world. The grass grew longer as you entered the shaded brush near the pond. You stripped your shoes off and waded into the water. It really wasn’t too disgusting, it was just warm. The twins followed after you.

“Watch out for the bullfrogs, Ron,” Fred teased.

“Yeah, we caught at least 5 of ‘em yesterday,” George added, stripping off his shirt. Next came Ginny and Hermione, who were mildly grossed out by the slime. Then Ron who looked disgusted. You chuckled to yourself as you sunk into the water, rubbing the mud off of your arms. Fred watched as you rubbed over your chest, his lips twitching at the corner. You sent a splash his way to deter him from looking which didn’t really work. Fred followed George’s suit and stripped his shirt off, the shaded lighting making him look absolutely divine. Fuck. You almost groaned at the sight and had to turn away to prevent yourself from drooling. Gods, you thought he looked good playing quidditch this year but seeing him shirtless and wet everyday this summer made you feel insane. After a few minutes of washing off all the mud, and a few splash fights, you guys headed back towards the burrow. One by one, you all cast drying spells on yourselves, and headed inside.

“Before we start the pie, I’m going to go change,” Hermione said with a face of disgust. While the pond got the mud off your clothes, you definitely reeked of dirt and sludge. You all murmured in agreement and headed upstairs to change. You got off on your floor, heading swiftly to your room.

Fred’s POV

I watched her go towards her room as me and George kept climbing up the stairs. She was going in there to change, to take off that little white tank top that was just soaking wet against her chest. Fuck. I had to keep my train of thought from wandering. I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be to control myself after last night. After I saw her perfect tits bouncing while I fucked her and watched her face as she came and fuck. I didn’t even realize I had turned around and started back down the stairs and towards her room. I knocked on her door swiftly.

“Fred?” She asked when she opened the door.

“Can I, uh, come in?” I asked, smiling sheepishly at her. She nodded and moved to the side to let me in. I shut the door behind me and stood in front of her. She looked nervous, waiting for me to say something.

“Y/N, can I be honest,” I breathed out a chuckle, feeling slightly awkward in front of what used to be only my best friend.

“Of course, Fred,” she replied, holding her hands behind her back as she looked at me.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, uhm, after last night,” I admitted, feeling a relief as the words left my mouth. She let out a breath.

“I know how you feel,” she chuckled, moving towards me.

“I don’t even really know why I’m here,” I chuckled again, breathing in as she stepped closer again.

“Do you want to, I dunno…” she blushed, looking up at me expectantly. I wasted no time in closing the gap between our lips. I let my hands grip around her waist, making her gasp into my mouth. I pressed her against my body, wanting to feel all of her. I couldn’t get enough, I just wanted to take her to bed.

“Com’ere,” I breathed, falling to sit on the bed and pulling her with me. She groaned as she straddled my hips, sinking down and feeling my length through my jeans. I groaned and pressed her down against me. Her legs felt so good under my hands, her hips gently moving on top of me. I swiped my thumbs across the front of her hips, causing her to whine into my lips. Merlin, she sounded so sexy. I moved my leg under her and used my hands to guide her hip back and forth on top of my thigh. She threw her hand back with a moan.

“Shhh,” I shushed her, bouncing my leg up and down as she rode me. I brought my lips up to hers, causing her to fall closer to my chest. She whined into me, giving me the change to slip my tongue into her mouth. I pushed her back and forth on my leg, earning more pretty moans from her mouth. I felt her shudder on me as she pulled back.

“Fred, I’m so close,” she whined, her face falling into my shoulder. I kissed down her neck.

“That’s it, come for me darling,” I murmured, licking over her neck and rubbing her down on my leg in a faster rhythm. Her moans got muffled in my shoulder as she sped up her movements. I wanted to hear her while she came, but shushed her gently as a reminder. She whined quietly as she shuddered on top of me, her hips grinding slowly on my leg. I kissed her tenderly as I helped her ride out her high. “Such a good girl,” I whispered in her neck before kissing up the side of her jaw and towards her lips. We shared on last kiss before she pulled back, her lips curling up into a smile.

“Fuck,” she giggled, panting on my lap. I smirked back at her.

“Did you like that?” I asked cheekily. She blushed and nodded before burying her face in my shoulder. I laughed and picked her up, placing her on her feet. “You should probably get changed. We don’t wanna be late to the pie making party.” She chuckled and playfully shoved my chest.

“Then get out of my room so I can change,” she teased, rolling her eyes. My face fell into a half grin as I threw my hands up and started towards the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I protested, exiting out into the hallway. She smiled as she shut the door behind me. Once again, a permanent grin was plastered on my face as I walked up the stairs. I readjusted my pants before stepping into my room.

“Mate, are you and Y/N fucking?” George asked, fixing his hair and the mirror. I breathed out a laugh and shrugged, moving towards the closet to change.

“Oh, it’s so much more than that, Georgie. I think I’m in love,” I sighed, pulling a band tee off the hanger. George chucked and came over to clap me on the back.

“Good for you, brother. I knew it was going to happen this summer,” George smiled at me and I smiled back. He would always be my number one wing man.

“Thanks, George. You mind helping me out with something? I have a plan,” I grinned. He grinned back at me.

“Count me in.”

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

just don’t get us caught

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

I'm watching Order of The Phoenix currently and I have a good idea for a fic, where it's Fred Weasley x reader and reader is a Slytherin and has always been very by the rules and is a prefect, but Umbridge pisses her off a lot to the point where she pulls a prank on Umbridge, and it has the twins wondering who could pull of something that elaborate, and eventually Fred figures out it's her but keeps her secret, and even helps her pull more pranks in the future, and she starts to help the twins with stuff for the joke shop and even helps sell some of their stuff to students

masterlist | navigation

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You weren’t sure what finally snapped in you. Maybe it was the way Umbridge treated the Gryffindors, or maybe it was how she belittled students in general. Whatever it was, it had you ready to break every rule you’d sworn to uphold as a Slytherin prefect.

And so you did.

You spent nights perfecting the prank. It had to be subtle, but devastating enough to leave Umbridge fuming. A delicate potion slipped into her tea that would turn her skin bright purple by morning. You’d even borrowed a few tricks from the Weasley twins’ playbook—if anyone knew how to make a scene, it was them.

The morning after, the entire school was buzzing. Umbridge was beside herself, trying to scrub her face clean, but the potion wouldn’t wear off for at least 24 hours.

Fred and George were in absolute awe.

“Who could’ve done it?” George mused during breakfast, scanning the Great Hall for a potential prankster.

Fred shrugged, though he had an amused glint in his eye. “Whoever it is, they’re a bloody genius.”

As the day wore on, Fred became more curious. He was determined to find the culprit, not to out them, but to congratulate them—and possibly learn a few things. After all, this prank was far more subtle than anything he and George would’ve pulled off. It had finesse.

The last person he expected was you.

Fred had never pegged you, the Slytherin prefect, as someone who even had the capacity to prank. You were known for being strict, by-the-rules, and basically everything the twins weren’t. But when he caught you smirking quietly to yourself as you passed Umbridge in the hall, something clicked.

That night, Fred cornered you in the library.

“Alright, out with it,” he said, sliding into the chair beside you.

You looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?”

Fred grinned. “You know what I’m talking about. The purple skin, the prank. It was you, wasn’t it?”

You stared at him for a moment, considering your options. Deny it, and he’d probably let it go. Admit it, and... well, Fred wasn’t exactly the kind to keep quiet. But then again, maybe he would.

“And if it was?” you finally said, eyebrow raised.

Fred’s grin widened. “I’ll keep your secret, on one condition.”

You crossed your arms. “And what’s that?”

“You help us pull off a few more. You’ve got talent, Y/N. Why let it go to waste?”

You considered the offer. Part of you wanted to refuse, to stick to your role as prefect. But another part—the part that had thoroughly enjoyed watching Umbridge suffer—was intrigued. You’d never been one to break the rules, but with Umbridge in charge, everything felt... different.

“Alright, Weasley,” you said, “I’m in. But you better not mess this up.”

Over the next few weeks, Fred and George brought you into their world of chaos. They didn’t just prank for fun; they were planning something much bigger. You found yourself staying up late in the Room of Requirement, helping them brew potions, develop joke products, and sell them under Umbridge’s nose.

It was thrilling.

The three of you became an unstoppable team. Fred always seemed particularly impressed with your ideas, often pulling you aside to suggest more complex plans. The line between friends and something more started to blur, especially when Fred would give you that mischievous smile, the one that made your heart race.

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell for him—maybe it was the way he respected your abilities, or how he never made you feel out of place even though you were a Slytherin. But you were certain of one thing: Fred Weasley was trouble, the best kind of trouble.

And you were more than happy to keep causing it with him.

One morning, you all pulled off your biggest prank yet. Thanks to a combination of fireworks and enchanted fliers, Umbridge’s office was covered in bright green slime. The whole school laughed, but no one could trace it back to you, Fred, or George.

Later, as you sat in the common room, Fred leaned in and whispered, “We make a good team, Y/N.”

You smirked. “Yeah, we do. Just don’t get us caught.”

Fred chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And from that day on, you weren’t just the Slytherin prefect anymore. You were Fred’s partner in crime, helping him create chaos.

[msmk11]

fred weasley masterlist

✱

-one shots-

✱ Sixth Love Language- 1.1k

-head cannons-

nothing here yet!

-series-

nothing here yet!

-blurbs-

nothing here yet!

[blackbirdi]

Tired

Brief Description: You're tired and your boyfriend's making sure you're getting to sleep.

Point of View: 2nd Person

Word Count: 454

Character: Character not specified; Multifandom x Reader, whatever character you so desire x Reader

It was movie night, like every Friday night, and you and your boyfriend had just sat down to pick something to watch.

As your boyfriend was scrolling through your movie options, out of the corner of his eyes he saw you yawn. He smiles like a lovesick fool at how cute you look when tired.

Turning to you, he chuckles quietly asking, "Tired, baby?"

"Extremely," you reply in a soft voice, leaning against his side.

He throws an arm over your shoulders, pulling you onto his lap. You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position before you lean your head against his chest.

"What time did you go to bed last night?" he asks you softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

You shrug, answering, "I don't know."

He rolls his eyes affectionately at you, pressing his lips to your temple, which only causes you to melt into his embrace more.

"What was the last time you saw on the clock?" your boyfriend rephrases his question.

Your eyebrows furrow together in thought, your boyfriend's heart melts just a little bit more at the sight. God, you're gorgeous.

He never thought he could fall in love before, let alone this in love. Every little thing you've done and will continue to do since he met you has only made his heart beat stronger for you.

"One twenty ... something," you respond.

Your boyfriend's arms tighten around you, holding you closer as he asks in worry, "You went to bed that late?"

With a small giggle, you reply, "I went to bed like two hours after that."

He makes a sound between a sigh and a laugh, bringing you closer to his chest as he presses a series of kisses to your face.

"Baby, you need to sleep more," he gently scolds you, smiling down at you with that same lovesick smile.

"I know," you whisper back, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Getting a sudden idea, your boyfriend twists around on the couch, laying down across it as he settles you onto his chest.

"How about we play the movie as background noise so you can sleep?" he suggests, running his hand through your hair as you snuggle deeper into his chest.

"Sounds good," you mumble, yawning once more.

He kisses the top of your head, clicking on your favourite movie as his arms encircle your waist, keeping you close.

"I love you," he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair, smiling at the smell of your shampoo.

God, he was whipped.

"I love you too, sweetheart," you mumble back, closing your eyes as the feeling of your boyfriend's finger running through her hair and the warmth of his embrace lulls you to sleep.

[l-lenny]

Dumb Krum … I love you too

Viktor Krum x Malfoy! Fem! Reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy! Fem! Reader

Part 5/??

SERIES MASTERLIST

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Hugging Viktor tight you started cheering he laughed and hugged you back. Enjoying the moment you didn’t even realized that your schoolmates were approaching you two. Out of the blue you were picked up on shoulders of Patric and Dolian two guys in same year as you. Viktor was lifted too. Everyone was loudly proclaiming that you two were the most skilled out there “Durmstrang! Durmstrang! Durmstrang!” Shouted everyone as they took you to the castle. For a school with such a dark reputation everyone was rather cheerful that night. Some of the guys actually smuggled in the common room few bottles of Hogs head brew, Daisyroot draught, Dagon Barrel brandy and sweet Berry Ocky Rot. And from then on it was straight up celebration of every possible occasion. Few students of Hogwarts showed up and said congratulations. The atmosphere never leaving the comfort zone. You and Viktor were sat side by side and you occasionally leaned on him. Taking in his scent and warmth. And when the clock chimed at midnight you started to feel tired. After a while everything was quiet and still. Sweetest dreams about the first trial flooded your mind. Seeing Viktor after the victory giving you kiss. You leaning in him and- “Y/n!” Yelled heavy accent of your classmate from the stairs. You rolled of the couch with a thud. Getting of the floor you looked at Dolian. Sending him a glare. “What?” You yelled. “You seriously slept on the couch?” He asked you and you looked around the common rooms. You did in fact slept on the couch but wrapped in blanket. Being too tired to get up. “Well Viktor said something about that but what the hell?” He laughed. “Viktor?” You asked him confused. He pointed at the blanket on the couch. “He tried to bring you to bed but since we weren’t able to undo the stupid charm around girls dormitory he said something about keeping you warm. I don’t remember much I feel asleep after a while” he said. You waved him off with a sneer “you two are incompetent at charms” going up the stairs to your room you freshened up. After putting on your favorite jumper and comfy pants you brushed your hair. Making a sleek high ponytail you checked yourself in the mirror. Taking a toothbrush you made sure to get yourself presentable again. Using hydration spell for your skin, you looked like yourself again. “I shouldn’t have drink last night.” You said to yourself going to get breakfast.

Chewing your scrambled eggs you looked for your friends. Not many of them have been present. In fact it was really early and not many students have been in the great hall. One of the few who made it in for early breakfast was your brother. Draco sit beside you. He cleared his trought and asked “Did you wrote to our parents?” You didn’t answer for a while “Not yet, they will be updated anyways, with the way Rita is capturing everything” you answered truthfully. Draco looked at his food “Father was really upset last ti-” he started but you interrupted him “Why are you suddenly so friendly?” You snapped. “I am your brother” he snapped back. “A brother that wanted to cut ties with me” you added sarcastically. “And you are a perfect sister?” He hissed. “You discarded me the first chance you got.” He pouted. “I have been protecting you!” You snapped at him. He looked confused. “What? First of all I don’t need your protection and-“ you interrupted with a low voice “yet you call daddy in any inconvenience right? You can’t protect yourself Draco, that’s why I went to Durmstrang.” You said. Draco not giving his argument up started “father said it was our choice to go to school-“ you stood up “I am not having this conversation right now” you said and left the great hall. Eyes of the students were on you and your brother. Draco stood up and followed you “So you admitted it! I was right and you-“ spinning on your heel you grabbed him by the collar “One of us had to go to Durmstrang, father and I made a deal in order to protect you I had to go.” Draco’s eyes flew open. He never knew about this. “I went willingly because I wanted for you to have it easier.” You said letting his collar go. Draco was stunned. “I” he breathed out when you turned around. “I wrote father this morning” he said. You looked at him “I told him about the trial and-“ he took a shaky breath “your disappointment of friends.” You didn’t quite grasped what he was saying. “Father knew about Vik” you said but what Draco said next was unsettling “I am talking about the Weasleys” he spat out. You looked at him shocked. “You have no right to write about my life. I choose who I am friends with and I choose who I spend time with. I can’t believe you!” You said frustration in your voice. Everything was going downhill from the moment you said foot on the boat. “You changed from the kid I used to know. You are not like the little brother I used to babysit and play with” With that you basically had no one in your family now.

Saying to yourself that the trial will come first, you promised yourself that you will wrote home later. With a task in mind you went to retrieve the egg and trying to focus only on the tournament you were met with a huge screech right when you opened the egg. Quickly closing it you were recovering your hearing. Some girls barged in your room “oh my Merlin what was that” asked girl with brown short hair and big eyes. “Are you alright?” Asked tall girl with a braid. “What happened “ asked the last one with dark hair. They were asking left, right and over each other. Explaining the situation you apologized and executed yourself. Grabbing the egg you went past very confused and very worried slytherins in the common room who headed out for breakfast. Shrugging it of you made your way to one of the bathrooms which no one used. Fred actually told you this. It was perfect for this. No one would be here. On your way there you met Viktor. Smiling at him you asked if he would help you. And that’s how you ended up there for four hours straight. In the first twenty minutes you managed to scared Moaning Myrtle away with the screaming. You had been laying on the floor staring at the ceiling. Your head hurt and your ideas were running low. You decided to freshen up. Filling the sink with water you dunked you head in trying to cool your coming headache. Viktor opened the egg again and tried to see if there was any new clue. But that was when you heard it. It was very faint and very distant. But you heard it. It was a word. You got your head out of the sink and spun at Viktor who shut the egg closed.

“Have you heard it?” You asked. “Vhat?” He asked confused rubbing his ears. “It was very faint and distant but I heard that.” You said energy coming back. “Vhat are you talking about? Vhat did you heard?” He asked you fully excited. You grabbed a bucket that was lying under the sink and made it larger with easy spell. After that you started pouring water in it. Viktor watched confused and then it clicked. He helped you and when he sunk the egg you both dipped your head in the water. Viktor opened the egg and you heard a beautiful melodical voices. It made sense now the screechy sound is actually a song sung by merpeople, who have high, thin, and screechy voices, making the egg's song incomprehensible when listened to in air. Submerging the egg deepens the sound to where it can be understood. According to the song in the Egg, You would have only one hour to rescue something dear to him that would be held deep beneath the lake at Hogwarts by the merpeople.

Calling it a day and cheering about your progress after that you discussed when to hold the next research session in the library. You were so excited that you wanted to share the news with someone. Deciding to tell Fred you went to find him. He was with George at the court yard. Running up to them they greeted you friendly and started a conversation. The usual well done, how are yous and what do you wanna dos were exchanged when you excitedly started talking about the torturous hours spent to decode the clue and how you managed to figure it out. “And I am telling you, it was just a coincidence but we’re got that! Could you believe that? Me and Vik will be studying for the next trial as soon as possible.” You weren’t dumb. You knew the looks of Hufflepuff students. They would probably tell the Hogwarts champions if they heard you talk how to crack the clues. Telling you figured it out but not how was smart. Fred and George were smiling at your enthusiasm. Calling it for celebration they took you to kitchens. Trying to talk to the house elves and asking if they could give you some sweets you chatted happily and enjoyed every minute of it. “So Dumb Krum is sometimes clever who would have thought.” Said George. All of you laughed and shared some stories and what not. In the evening when it was about to be time to sleep you took hot shower, got in your comfortable pajama’s and wrote home. It was surprising that no howler came today after what your brother told you. Maybe father was really busy today and couldn’t read Draco’s lettter? No that can’t be it. Shrugging it off you made your way to bed, letting sleep engulf you.

Once again you were woken up by a howler from your father. He shamed you for talking to Weasley and reminded you to choose better friends and stick to your Durmstrang friends. But he never congratulated you for finishing the first task. Having pretty bad morning you headed to eat and and then you would go to classes. In the moment you wanted to go to your room for books you heard McGonagall make announcement “I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball will be approaching — a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —“ loud chatter erupted cutting the professor off. She demanded attention again and continued “Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then — The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to — er — let our hair down. But that does NOT mean, that we will be relaxing the standards. I will be most seriously displeased if any student embarrasses their school in any way”she sternly reminded “I wish to speak with the champions before classes today” she announced last and disappeared in the hall. Getting up from your seat you followed her with others to her office. “As champions you will have first dance with your chosen partners. You have to invite someone as you must attend because of your roles as champions” she informed “Do not worry about dancing as you shall be educated on that subject later” she said. “Do you have any questions for me?” She smiled kindly at the Triwizard champions. With that all of you went your separate ways.

Was it foolish of you to wish to go with Viktor? Could you even do that? You were too shy to ask Minerva in front of everyone. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw went to attend DADA with the Beauxbatons students, Viktor run to get his books promising to catch up with you in charms. With everyone gone you knocked on Minerva’s door again and entered. “I actually have one question professor” you said. She gave you a comforting smile and gestured for you to continue. “Is it possible for the two champions to go together?” You asked hopefully. She give it a second before answering. “Good question indeed. Well, if you want to attend the ball with one of the champions then I suppose no. The champions are supposed to go as individuals with a date not as champion with a champion.” She answered. You nodded and with a quick thank you you went to grab you books and sprinted to charms, barely making it.

The day was slow and you were more then disappointed in the decision of not going with Viktor. Trying to think of someone who would be fun and nice to talk to during the night you were constantly thinking of Fred Weasley. “Y/n-” some part of you was happy that you were thinking of him. “Y/n-“ and yes he would be fun, you can go as friends. “Y/n!“ you spun your head to Viktor in shock. “What?” He chuckled “You vere spacing out again. Ve are done for today, I asked if you would study with me for the next trial.” He offered and you agreed and went straight to library.

Starting to get headaches you closed the 12th book. Studying on end to find solutions to keep breathing underwater. “The Bubble-Head Charm might be useful but I don’t think we should rely on just one charm” you said and offered to look another day. He nodded and with a good night hug he decided to get to bed early. You went for fresh air to astronomy tower, being in stuffy library all evening was tiring. Step by step you went up the stairs to be met with a ginger head lying on the floor and looking at the stars. Deciding to just plop down next to him you greeted him. “Hey Fred!” He looked at you and smiled “How do you know I am not George?” You chuckled “Your eyes” you simply answered and stared at the stars. He nodded not understanding you in the slightest. “So how was that after in library date with our Dumb Krum?” He asked jokingly. You shook your head “We we trying to figure out how to not die in the next trial.” Fred looked at you taking in all beautiful features that made you shine in the moonlight. Suddenly you sit up and looked at him. Your idea from this morning of asking him to the Yule ball popping in your head. He sat up too confused. “Can I have one favor?” You asked. He nodded letting you continue. “Can you say yes to the next question I am going to ask?” He just blinked. Then laughed and shook his head. “Why to say all of this?” You smiled at him not saying anything. “Fine” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Will you go to the Yule ball with me?” You asked him hoping and praying for him to say yes. Your really wanted to go with him for some reason. “Wait really? Yes I would love to!” He smiled and hugged you. After a while he parted and asked “but I was assuming you want to go with Dumb Krum” you chuckled “for some reason I do really wanna go with you” you punched him playfully in the chest. Feeling happy and content both of you went to bed.

Passing time in books you were settled on your way to win the next challenge. You still didn’t know what you were going to fetch but at least you were prepared.

You and Viktor were standing at the end of the pier waiting for the second trial. All of the students and professors came to see. Well you didn’t see Fred. Which kind of hurt. George asking you where his twin was, was not helping you relax. When Madam Hooch started the trial you pushed aside your worries and jump in the water. Before you hit the water you half-transfigured Viktor and he did the same. Adjusting to your tail was rather easy and you went straight into the depths of the lake. Beauxbatons used bubble head charm and Hogwarts champions used gillyweed. You all tried you hardest.

Going deep down you used your wand to light the way and led Viktor deeper. Something latched on your shark tail. You look in shock back at you tail. You saw sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against your tail, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers. You knew what this thing was. The Grindylow. A creature that had long, brittle fingers which despite their fragility were rather strong. You felt it when the creature scratched you. Viktor tried to broke its grip on you with force. To no avail he put his wand near its head and used the Revulsion Jinx. The spell shot jets of boiling hot water, which would scold its skin and cause it to release itsgrip and retreat. When you saw more of them coming you hurried deeper.

When you arrived deep in sea grass you saw magical cocoons with people. It turns out that the "something dear" for each of the champions was another person. Viktor grabbed Hermione and you grabbed Fred. After a while of untangling Freds cocoon was still in tangled sea grass. Then you saw Hogwarts champions. When you were about to go after Viktor, Cedric and Marian you saw Anne snatching her boyfriend and swimming up. Last minute decision you grabbed the smaller girl in the last cocoon. Swimming away hastily after you saw few merpeople lurking around. You tried to swim really fast to catch up. You body getting sore from all the swimming and pulling two bodies up. You injury bringing in more gryndilows. You tried to push your body to its limit. Almost crying and getting sharp pain in your tail and arms.

Seeing the others you tried to be faster but you got cramp in your tail making you immediately paralyzed. The little sea creatures catching up to you. Pointing you wand at your still bleeding trail you helped it to release all the pain and in the last second you shot the swarm of the little green annoyances. Grabbing the cocoons again you came to surface. Gabrielle and Fred took first breath and the three of you were freezing cold. You were last to get out. Letting Gabrielle and Fred go before you. Your head was spinning and you were getting weak. Due to the blood loss you were getting colder much faster. When Fred was engulfed in warm towel with the little girl you tried to go up the pier but you were to weak. Slipping out of consciousness you started to sink. When you open you eyes again you have back your legs, wrapped in ton of towels and Fred, George, Viktor, Fleur and Madam Pomfrey were staring at you.

“Thank the great philosophers” hugged you Viktor. “Y/n!” Said Fred and George in unison. Fleur smiled brightly at you. Madam Pomfrey just nodded and walked off with a small smile making the students cheer. Durmstrang chanted “Mal-foy-Krum! Mal-foy-Krum!” Over and over again. George thanked you for getting his brother and Fleur for getting her sister back.

In mere hours a Quibbler appeared at your nightstand in hospital wing, where you sat on request of Madam Pomfrey for any signs of any sort of negative impact. The wound not not on your tail but on your leg was wrapped in Buuble gaze to made sure no negative damage was done. Viktor and Fred were beside you but after getting scold from the nurse they had to leave. After that Fleur showed you the magazine and thanked you again. When she was leaving to let you rest you wondered if you should read anything that Rita wrote, but curiosity got the better of you. You opened it and read out loud.

“Beauxbatons failed to finish the second task because Fleur was attacked by the grindylows. Because Delacour failed to finish, she never retrieved her younger sister, Gabrielle. Hogwarts champions saved all of theirs hostages, and were not hardly attacked. Nothing really prevented them from doing so by the Merpeople. Then Krum and Malfoy, arrived and retrieved their hostages, but when Fleur failed to show, Y/n in a heroic nature retrieved Gabrielle in addition to Fred Weasley. By choosing to try and save the other hostages earned Durmstrang extra points from the judges for "moral fiber." Final scores, out of 50, for this Task were assigned as follows Beauxbatons 25 points, Hogwarts 40 points and Durmstrang 47 points.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

fill the void || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+

It felt odd in a way, being alone for the first time.

Usually you were surrounded by your fellow Slytherins, the smell of cigarettes and cologne something your nostrils had grown accustomed to. The sound of vicious insults or bitter rants making a nest in your ears. The sight of scowls with liquor in their hands, their knuckles typically bruised and bloody.

But right now, all of that was gone. The air in the courtyard was clean, the breeze blowing past you providing you with the smell of the earth. Your sights were centered on a giant oak tree, as well as the moon that dimly illuminated the area below. It was an odd change, your surroundings being so settled. You couldn’t help but wonder what you would’ve become if you hadn’t been placed in Slytherin. Maybe yellow would’ve suited you better.

It wasn’t that you despised your housemates, even if they were a group of misfit toys. Mattheo protected you, Theo tutored you, Draco was always glued to your side. It wasn’t them that troubled you. It was what wearing the sickening shade of green meant. Submission to the dark lord. Following the ideology of pureblood nonsense. Especially being one of the only prominent girls, there was always the lingering question who’d you marry and reproduce with.

Yuck.

“Am I interrupting?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You’d recognize a Weasley’s voice anywhere. “Unfortunately not,” You admitted. You hated to admit you knew which Weasley twin it was, a lanky Fred Weasley plopping down beside you on the concrete steps. He stretched out his long legs, mere inches separating both of you. “Is there a reason you’re perched out here instead of doing shots with your friends?” Fred asked. How could you explain why? Oh yes, I am having an existential crisis because of the fact my dress is emerald. Want to go inside and split a chocolate frog?

“Where’s your other half? Didnt think you two separated,” You quipped, brushing off his question. Fred took the hint, leaning back on his hands. “Currently snogging Angelina Johnson,” He answered. This caught your attention, your head snapping to look over at him. “The chaser that wiped the floor with Blaise last season?” You asked. Sometimes you forgot how small this dreaded University actually was. Fred nodded, shrugging. “Aggressive on and off the field, just the way George likes em,” He replied.

You snorted. “Ahh yes. Makes sense a Weasley would enjoy being slutted out,” You snickered. It was too easy of a jab. Fred began to man spread, his long legs in your personal bubble. “I wouldn’t be so hasty little serpent. A few of us know how to put a brat in their place,” He smirked. The cocky motherfucker winked, heat dashing across your cheeks. You must be in a different dimension. There’s no bloody way a Weasley made you blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Fred praised. He couldn’t help but notice how good you looked in the moonlight, the beams highlighting your features.

“Are you complimenting me Weasley?” You questioned. You avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat. “Obviously not, i’m flirting with you,” Fred replied, unable to control the smile creeping across his lips. You were just so easy to tease. “What makes you think you can flirt with me?” You asked, turning your head to look over at the ginger. He shrugged, meeting your firey gaze with ease. “Perhaps it’s because we’re in the same boat, sitting out here alone in a bloody courtyard while the yule ball is less than five hundred feet away,” Fred explained. You audibly scoffed. “Weasley’s can’t afford a boat,” You spat.

Fred chuckled at your insult, your venom harmless to him. “Considering you’re out here I think it’s safe to say your boat has sank. Guess we’re on the same island together then,” He replied. You couldn’t help but find his facial expression smug. “Great,” You grumbled. You rested your chin on your knees, contemplating your life decisions. Fred sighed. “Well, if my presence really isn’t that valued i’ll relocate,” He said. He began to rise to his feet, your body doing a one eighty. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his wrist until it was, desperately holding him in place.

“Sit down Weasley. I-,” You paused, looking up at the ginger. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Fred grinned down at you mischievously, resuming his place beside you. “Figured you’d say that. Just wanted to hear you say it,” He gloated. You slapped his arm. “You’re unbearable. You know that don’t you?” You grumbled. Fred couldn’t help but laugh. Your annoyance was adorable. “You seem to like it,” He replied. You frowned as he stood up in front of you. “Do not,” You argued.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

Fred extended his hand in front of you. The faint sound of classical music could be heard over the stillness, the wind having faded out. “Care to dance?” He asked. The choice was standing right in front of you, demanding an answer. You could say no and continue moping on the stairs. You could say no and go back inside, all eyes on you once again. Or you could say yes, potentially having a good time with a boy you didn’t belong with. Dancing with a Weasley? Draco would have a field day with this one. But Fred’s hand never looked more appealing than it did in that moment.

Hesitantly you took his hand, allowing him to bring you to your feet. Even in heels he easily towered over you, the ginger not hesitating to bring you close to his chest. “You know you can drop the bad girl act with me, I won’t tell,” Fred said, guiding you back and forth. You were an awkward dancer, despite the endless ballroom dancing classes your parents put you through. “It’s not an act,” You argue. Fred looked down at you, his face painted like he knew you. Like he could see right through your hollow shell.

“Sure it isn’t. And i’m not the best prankster in Hogwarts,” He quipped. You slowly spun you around, giving you time to catch up as you almost tripped in your heels. “You’ve really got quite an ego, don’t you Weasley?” You asked. Fred grinned as he pulled you back close to him. “Thats a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asked. You glared up at him. “I think not,” You argued. Even though your words were laced with venom, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed his touch.

So gentle but so assertive, guiding you. Your mind strayed away, imagining him guiding you a different way. Guiding you to take his cock, to ride him until the sun came up. “Hey? Are you listening little serpent?” Fred asked, his voice coming back into frame. You blinked a few times, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry, what?” You asked. Fred slowly guided the dance to a stop, the song ending. You couldn’t help but wish it’d last forever. “I was asking what you’re thinking about,” He said.

You could feel yourself turning red, your filthy thoughts flooding to the forefront of your mind. You felt tongue tied, unable to confess your dirty fantasies. “Ohh, I see,” Fred said. You couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye, embarrassed enough to be in this position. You felt his slender fingers slide under your chin, guiding you to look up at him. You allowed him to guide you, his eyes boring into yours. You liked that, allowing him to guide you. Even if he was supposed to be bad for you, his touch put you on cloud nine.

“Do you like that? When I guide you? Take control?” Fred asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than before. You could’ve dropped to your knees in an instant. “Maybe I do,” You replied, not wanting to cave, not just yet. Fred leaned down further, pressing his lips against yours. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be, filling the void inside of you. The void that craved approval and validation. His lips provided all of that and more. He guided you towards the giant oak tree, pinning you against it.

The sharp bark scraped at your back, a groan escaping your lips as Fred’s refused to stray from yours. You raked your hands throw his hair, pulling at the roots roughly. Fred whined into your mouth, smirking as he pulled away. “Cute,” He murmured. His eyes flickered behind you, ensuring no one was around. “As much as i’d love to make you squirm, we can’t do much here,” He whispered. You pulled him back to your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough, your body craving him.

“That eager, are we?” Fred asked, pulling you back in for another kiss. You gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it towards you. “Fuck me, at the very least Weasley,” You ordered weakly, your body betraying the attempt at dominance you were spewing. Fred grinned mischievously. “Turn around for me pretty girl,” He purred. You did as asked, his large hands pushing you against the tree. You could hear the clinking of his belt, your core throbbing in anticipation.

His large hands pushed up your dress, pulling your panties to the slide. “You’re lucky we’re in the courtyard, otherwise i’d make you beg and scream for me to fuck you,” Fred purred. You felt his tip brush up and down your folds, a moan escaping your lips. One of Fred’s hands flew to your mouth. “Gotta keep quiet little serpent. Dont want anyone to hear you being a whore for a Weasley, do you?” He taunted. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, your body feeling like it may split in two.

“You’re fuckin soaked for me,” Fred mused, placing a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. Your moans were muffled by his hand, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I’m bigger than Malfoy aren’t I?” He asked teasingly as he bottomed out inside of you. You grabbed onto his wrist, yanking it away from your mouth. “In your dreams Weasley,” You spat, whimpering as he bucked his hips ever so slightly. Fred began to suck at the side of your neck, harsh enough to leave a hickey. “Dont leave marks on me,” You argued, moaning as he began to thrust into you. Fred released your neck with a pop, satisfied as the skin began to turn purple.

“Whys that? Afraid your boy toys will find out you’ve let me in between your legs?” Fred asked, beginning to pick up the pace. His pace was brutal, his hand flying back over your mouth to muffle your sinful noises. “When they ask tell them. Tell them how I ruined you. How a Gryffindor made you cum in a courtyard like a dog in heat,” Fred huffed. He continued to viciously snap his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. You moaned his name into his hand, gripping one of his wrist and the tree for support.

“You’re so fucking tight, so perfect,” Fred groaned into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He removed his hand from your mouth, his hands taking their rightful place on your hips. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock. You understand me? You’re going make a mess for me,” Fred ordered. His orders were hypnotizing, your legs beginning to shake as he held onto the fabric of your dress. You could feel the knot inside of you tighten, a familiar feeling coming.

“Please make me cum Freddie, fucking please,” You pleaded, your orgasm coming faster than you’d like to admit. Fred chuckled, fucking you mercilessly against the tree. “There she is, there’s my sweet whore. Go on, cum for me,” He panted. You squeezed his wrist tightly as you came, euphoria washing over you as you came on his shaft. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out on you at any moment. You felt Fred’s hips stutter, the ginger pulling out of you.

He guided you onto the ground, your bare knees hitting the dirt below. You stuck out your tongue, allowing Fred to cum inside of your mouth. “Holy shit,” Fred moaned, watching as you swallowed every last top. You both sat there for a moment, your highs subsiding as you soaked in what you had just done.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna grab a butterbeer sometime?”

“Shut up Weasley.”