#fred's in the school band

[flershnork]

Hey me from two years ago, what the fuck is going on in this document?

[simkoos]

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⇢ kole fuller, 27 - in a band (guitarist and main vocalist), knows a lot of sims but doesn't have many friends outside of his bandmates and neighbors, would probably be the sweetest golden retriever boyfriend

[minlcna]

mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to take requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance. 

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone. 

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance. 

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough. 

"Silence," she called with strictness. 

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a 

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued. 

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile. 

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling. 

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row. 

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice. 

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled. 

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George. 

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions. 

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall. 

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position. 

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair. 

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy. 

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew. 

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock. 

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part. 

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk. 

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse. 

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes. 

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying. 

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed. 

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing. 

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic. 

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk. 

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look. 

"What?" he asked incredulously. 

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting. 

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously. 

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts. 

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly. 

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating. 

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

[allthesmutl0vers]

Hi! I have a request if you accept.

George and the reader have been dating (sort of secretly) for a while now. The reader is someone who falls outside the typical, generic Slytherin image. She is kind and calm (well, mostly). Until some of her rude bully friends started messing with George, his family and this 'blood traitor' thing about the Weasley name. This is a definite turning point. The reader definitely proves to everyone that she is truly a Slytherin. She shows her scary and cruel side to those who deserve it. From now on, no one will mess with the ones she loves, she can do anything for the guy she loves. Possessive and protective. George's jaw drops... and after all this they may need to find some privacy.

Oo! I love this idea!!😃 Thank you so much for sending it to me 💗Let me see what I can do. Sorry this took me a day to get to, love.

MDNI, NSFW, 18+.

Requests: OPEN

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 🫶

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,959

Summary: Nobody in Slytherin could ever imagine being caught dead with someone from another house, let alone from Gryffindor. Nobody but you, at least. You've always kept to yourself, especially when it comes to your relationship with a certain Weasley twin. Everyone, including even your friends, wonders how you ended up in Slytherin. When those same friends go too far with their deplorable insults, you decide to show them exactly why you were sorted into Slytherin.

TW: Bullying, Name calling, Violence, Smut (P! in V! -You're on birth control), Oral (F! Receiving), Praise, Possessive!George, Protective!George, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Breeding adjacent?- Not sure about this last tw, lmk in the comments if that's what it is.

Song Inspo: Click here (River: Bishop Briggs)

"I'm just saying, this school has gone to the dogs," Pansy huffs. "I mean, seriously, how could Dumbledore think having a werewolf as a professor is a good idea?"

"It was last year, Pansy. Get over it," I mutter as I try to focus on my book. She's nice enough, but I swear to Merlin, she can never just sit in silence. And when she can't think of anything to talk about, she somehow finds a way to talk shit about someone else.

"Didn't peg you for a half-breed sympathizer," pansy quips, leaning back on her hands as we sit in the courtyard.

I roll my eyes, cursing myself for saying anything at all. Because now I'm sucked into a conversation I never wanted to be a part of. "I could say the same thing to you. Isn't your family currently harboring Greyback?" I ask with a raised brow over my book.

"Hush up about that, will you?" Pansy asks as she looks around the courtyard in a panic. "Nobody is supposed to know."

I do my best to ignore her, trying to go back to my book. But when I see George Weasley come into the courtyard with his twins and a band of Gryffindors, and a mix of the other two houses, I can't pull my eyes away.

I watch as he pulls something out of his pocket. It lights up like a sparkler, and he begins to toss it back and forth with Fred while the others around them 'oo' and 'ahh.' Probably the Whiz-Bangs he was telling me about in our last little rendezvous in the room of requirement, a new invention that they've been working on. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, biting the corner of his lower lip as he catches it again.

I smile back, wishing more than anything that I could just go up and be with him publicly. George has mentioned wanting to go public with our relationship, but being a Slytherin princess makes it a little more than difficult.

Going back generations, all of my family has been sorted into Slytherin. And although my parents are a little more progressive than most Slytherin alumni, they've made it clear how they feel about me dating outside of my house.

"Ugh, look them over there. Tossing around that garbage," Pansy huffs, annoyed.

Before I can say anything, she's already up and walking over with Daphne Greengrass. Shit. I stand up, too, and walk behind them as we approach the small circle that has started to form around Fred and George. "Hey!" Pansy shouts, shoving her way through.

Fred and George look between me and Pansy with confused looks and a knot of nerves forms deep in my stomach. "What do you want, Parkinson?" Fred bites back.

"Surprised you managed to slither your way out of the dungeon," George adds with a smirk.

Pansy crosses her arms over her chest with a huff. "How dare you talk to me like that," she spits at them with a venom-laced tone. "I'm just shocked you managed to actually make something. Aren't you failing nearly everything? What's up? Weasley's can't afford a tutor?" She quips.

My fists clench at my sides. It's not fair to blame the children for parents not making more money. Especially when they're the kindest people in the world. I watch George's jaw tick with annoyance. "Better than sucking dick to get a good grade. Or were you on your knees in front of Snape for another reason?" George fires back.

I purse my lips to keep myself from smiling. Nobody is supposed to know that except for me, but the look on Pansy's face makes it well worth telling George about.

Pansy's face turns bright red as everyone around us gasps and starts whispering among themselves. "Shut up," she seethes with anger. She turns to me, and I see her nostrils flare. She knows I had to be the one who told him. "How fucking dare you?" She spits at me. "You promised not to tell anyone. And you tell that filthy fucking blood traitor?!" She practically screams.

Something inside of me snaps, and I look over at George, who is already drawing his wand. I shake my head softly before turning back to Pansy. "Actually, he just guessed. You just outed yourself," I quip, taking a step closer to her. "And don't fucking talk about him like that," I snap at her.

"You're defending him?!" She gasps, pointing to George. "You're a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. Have some fucking class," she says with disgust. "Talking with blood traitors," she shakes her head. "What would your parents say?"

Everyone around us falls silent. I've never talked this much. Most of these people have probably never heard me talk at all. "You're one to talk about class, Parkinson," I step closer to her. "Your family is so fucking inbred it's a miracle you're even able to write your name."

Pansy begins to shake with anger as she draws her wand, and I draw mine, too, holding it at my side. "You disgust me. The fact you can call yourself a Slytherin with that filthy mud-blood of a mother is beyond me," she snaps. "And defending a blood traitor to top it off?" She scoffs with disgust.

I grip my wand tight. "Say blood traitor one more time, and I'll remind you just how much of a Slytherin I am."

Pansy clenches her jaw before she opens her mouth. "Blood-"

"Flipendo!" I flick my wand, throwing Pansy back five feet and making her land on her ass. Everyone laughs, including Fred and George.

Pansy stands up in a hurry, brushing off her skit as she aims her wand at me. "Locomotor Wibbly!" she flicks her wand at me, casting the jelly-legs jinx.

George steps in front of me, dodging the jinx with a wave of his wand. "That's enough!" He yells, making everyone fall silent again. Fred and George don't yell in anger, so it catches everyone, myself included by surprise.

"I got it, Georgie," I say without looking at him as I move to stand in front of him. "Levicorpus!" I jinx Pansy, holding her up in the air by her ankles with a dangle of my wand. She screams, frantically trying to cover herself with her skirt. "Had enough?" I ask her with a bite in my tone.

"Let me down!" She screams as everyone points and laughs at her granny panties. Don't try to jinx someone on laundry day.

"That doesn't sound like an apology," I taunt with a smirk as I turn, waving my wand and Pansy over the fountain, holding her a few inches above the water.

"I'm sorry!" Pansy screams as I feel George put a hand possessively on my waist.

"Don't apologize to me," I taunt, leaning into George's touch. Fuck what anyone says.

Pansy looks at George and Fred, who moves to stand at George's side. "I'm sorry!" She cries with tears falling as she hangs upside down over the fountain.

I smirk and pull my wand back, breaking the invisible rope that holds her upside down and she falls into the fountain with a splash. I walk over to the fountain, leaning over the side. "Don't ever let me hear you say shit about any of them again. Got it?" I spit at her as she drips with water.

Pansy nods without a word, sniffling back her tears. I let out a deep breath and turn to see the large crowd that gathered as I dueled with Pansy. "Show's over," I tell them all as I walk up to George.

"Damn, didn't know you had that in you," Fred jokes, running a hand through his red hair.

I huff a laugh. "You know what they say about the quiet ones," I smirk. "I couldn't let her stand there and talk shit about you guys or your family," I tell them both before turning to look up at George. "Let alone my boyfriend," I say softly, admitting what we are aloud for the first time.

George smiles wide and pulls me into his chest. "Finally ready to admit it, huh?" He chuckles, the vibration of it reverberating against my chest as I wrap my arms around his waist.

"Maybe," I shrug and smile looking up into his eyes.

George bites his lip and leans down to my ear, his breath sending pleasurable shivers down my spine as he speaks softly in my ear. "As much as I would love to show you off right now, I need you."

My thighs clench at his words as he pulls back to look into my eyes. "Room of requirement?" I tease.

"That or I take you right here, show everyone who you belong to. But better decide quick, angel."

I chuckle and roll my eyes. "Room of requirement it is."

George leads me through the castle with his hand wrapped tightly around mine, and for the first time, I don't mind giving people a glimpse into my personal life. All of the whispers about George Weasley being with a Slytherin girl roll right off of my back. They don't matter. All that matters right now is getting to where we're going and George blowing my back out.

The door to the room of requirement opens and we walk inside to see the usual lay it that it knows we need.

A bed along the wall, with the silkiest sheets I have ever felt in my life, a small bathroom to clean up in, and a table with a chair. Not really sex up for sex. It appears to be for a student who needs their own room for the night. But it's perfect for what we need it for.

George kisses me as he walks me backward to the bed. The back of my knees hit the bed, and he lifts me up by my thighs without missing a beat. George lays me back on the bed, my head landing on the pillow as he kneels between my thighs.

I moan as George kisses down my jaw, trailing kisses to the sweet spot behind my ear and down my neck, nipping and sucking the tender skin as the blood beneath his lips rushes through my veins.

George props himself up with one arm as his free hand slides up my thigh, gripping it tightly right at the apex. "I've waited so long to make you mine," he groans as my hands work to unbutton his pants between us.

"I was already yours," I breathe as I get his pants undone.

George's fingers slide my panties to the side as he runs his fingers through my folds, landing on my clit and eliciting a moan to leave my lips. "But now everyone knows you belong to me," he moans softly as I pull his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock and pump it in my hand.

"My parents are going to lose their fucking minds," I moan when he inserts two fingers inside of me as his thumb works my clit.

George smirks and leans down to press a kiss to my lips. "Then you can stay with me and mine," he says like a promise. "Let them lose it, I'll be your shield."

I flip us over so I'm straddling his hips, grinding myself down on him. "Careful, Georgie. Or else I might start to think you're in love with me," I tease as I unbutton my shirt and toss it aside.

George sits up, his chest flush with mine as I straddle him. He reaches around me, kissing my chest as he removes my bra. "Would that be such a bad thing, angel?" George teases as he takes one of my nipples in his mouth and starts to suck, nipping the sensitive peak with his teeth.

My head falls back as my fingers run through his hair, pulling him back, and he releases my nipple with a 'pop.' "Only if you don't mean it," I moan softly.

George groans with pleasure. He removes the rest of our clothes with a flick of his wand and impales me on his hard, waiting cock, making me gasp loudly. "Does it feel like I mean it?" He growls, his hand wrapping around to the back of my hair and pulling my head back.

I lift myself up and thrust back down on him, taking him deep inside of me. "Fuck, yes," I moan.

George grips my hip with a bruising force as he works me on top of him. "Then say it. Say you love me," he demands in a husky voice.

"I love you," I moan as he releases his grip on my hair just enough for me to meet his gaze. "Fuck, I love you, George."

George moans as his hand moves from my hair to the back of my neck, pulling me down with him as he lays back and thrusts his hips into mine. "God, I love you, too," he moans. "Such a good girl for me," he groans as his free hand lands on my ass with a hard smack.

I gasp and moan as the sting slowly melts into pleasure, and he does it again. "Yes, George," I pant as he thrusts up into me with a brutal pace.

George flips us, removing his cock from me and diving between my thighs. He throws my legs over his shoulders, and he holds my hips down, and his tongue lands on my clit. "Fuck!" I cry out as my hands grip his hair. "George!"

George uses his fingers to hold my folds apart, opening me up more for him, lapping at my clit with his whole tongue, and shaking his head, threatening to send me right over the edge. My legs clamp around his face, and he moans right onto my clit, adding vibration to top everything else off. The overstimulation is too much, and my fingers tug at his hair, desperate to be free and also not wanting him to stop what he's doing.

"G-G-George!" I cry out with a whimper as my legs start to shake around his head. "Please!"

George grips my thighs from underneath and pushes them up to my chest. "Don't interrupt my meal," he warns me with a dark gaze. "Now keep those fucking legs up."

I hold the metal bedframe above my head with a white-knuckled grip, and George keeps my legs pushed up to my chest. "You wanna cum, angel?" George teases me as he flicks my clit with an annoying soft touch with his tongue.

"Yes, George, please," I beg helplessly as my back arches.

"Then do it. Cum on my face like the good girl you are for me," he taunts before his tongue laps at my clit again. His words and his tongue send me over the edge. My toes curl, and my back and neck arch so far I'm scared they'll break, but I can't bring myself to care if they do.

After George rides me through my orgasm, he leans over me, lines himself up with my entrance, and thrusts into me harshly. "Fuck!" I moan loudly as he leans down to nip at my neck.

"You look so beautiful with my cock buried inside of you," he moans as he holds my thighs. "Think you can cum for me again, angel?"

I shake my head. "I- I can't," I moan pathetically, already feeling another one build. I grips his wrists as his hands hold my thighs up to my chest.

"Mm, I think you can," he teases. He knows I can. He does this every time. It's a game to us, I tell him I can't cum again, and he drags another one out of me. He punctuates with another hard thrust, and I swear I can feel him in my guts with the angle he's fucking me. "Hands on the bedframe," he demands.

I reach above my head, gripping the metal bedframe again. "Such a good girl for me," George moans as he pulls my legs up to rest on his shoulders and leans down, forcing me to take him deeper. "Want me to fill you up, angel?" He teases.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" I moan loudly as he fucks me hard.

"Beg for it," George says sternly, slowing his thrusts to a teasing pace.

I whimper underneath him, keeping my hands above my head. "Please, Georgie. Please fill me with your cum," I beg pathetically, the way he can make me.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg," George moans as his thrusts quicken again, slamming into me harder.

The tether inside of me begins to fray, ready to snap once again. "George, I'm gonna cum again," I pant with a moan as my eyes roll back.

One of George's hands grips the back of my neck. "Me too, angel. Eyes up, baby," he demands as his thrusts begin to stagger.

My hands leave the bedframe, gripping his arms as he thrusts into me again, and our orgasms hit at the same time. The room a symphony of moans, pants, and a mix of each other's names. Once we ride out our highs, George lays down next to me on the bed, letting out a heavy breath as he pulls me to his side, my head resting on his shoulder. Fuck the last class of the day, and fuck whatever consequences that come from us not being careful as we snuck in here together.

And a big 'fuck you' to my parents if they have anything negative to say when they hear about my relationship. They can get fucked, because I know I will be.

[rembrandts-spraypaint]

OH MY GOODDDD.....

[libraryofgage]

Steddie brainrot continues to worsen to a concerning degree but here's a crack idea that is absolutely sending me:

Famous Spicy Six in which Jonathon is a director who decides to work on a passion project: a Scooby-Doo movie. His ideal cast is as follows:

Nancy Wheeler (investigative journalist with a few special appearances on crime dramas) as Daphne Blake

Argyle (an actor with a habit of playing small parts; he acts only because he thinks it's fun, so he's not concerned with significant roles) as Shaggy Rogers

Robin Buckley (a well-known voice actor who is more well-known for her social media posts and clap-backs) as Velma Dinkley

Steve Harrington (basketball star who is also more well-known for his social media clap-backs and for being Corroded Coffin's number one fan) as Fred Jones

Eddie Munson (frontman for Corroded Coffin, an insanely popular metal/punk/rock band and "infamous" for unashamedly posting Steve Harrington thirst tweets) as the voice of Scooby-Doo

Corroded Coffin is also creating an entirely new, original soundtrack for the movie

And because I think it's funnier this way, this is also an AU where the Upside Down still happened, so Jonathon just calls his friends up and is like "Okay, so hear me out"

The absolute insanity that breaks out when both the movie and cast are announced because nobody can figure out how Jonathon managed to convince all these powerhouses to join his movie.

The further screaming online after one of the movie promo interviews where a reporter asks how they all agreed to the movie and Nancy hits them with, "Well, Jonathon asked, and he never asks for anything."

Which leads to the discovery that they all knew each other in high school, and the reporter jokingly asks if that means they've all dated each other, too, which leads to Eddie jumping in with absolute delight like, "Well, that's a funny story, there. See, Stevie here dated Nancy, who then dated Jonathon when they broke up, who then dated Argyle after they broke up. And I thought Stevie and Robin were dating, so I was very confused when I saw Robin and Nancy kissing. But then I found out that Robin was a true-blue lesbian, which meant Stevie here was open for the taking, and we've been banging ever since."

and Steve is just sitting there, head in his hands while Robin cackles and decides to tell the reporter all about Steve's "fuck I have a crush on Eddie" crisis

This interview, of course, leads to even more freaking out online and comments like "I know I asked for poly Scooby gang, but this is ridiculous," and "I can't believe that in this, the year of our lord 20xx, ScoobyXFreddy became a canon ship," and "if I had a nickel for every romantic relationship the Scooby gang actors have had with each other, I'd have five nickels, which is way more than any of us fucking expected to have," and "suddenly Eddie Munson's thirst tweets make a lot more sense, but can we talk about Steve Harrington's CC tweets now," and "everyone say thank you to Eddie Munson for revealing that mess of a relationship map," and "finally, the canon lesbian velma and daphne we deserve"

The movie is a box office hit, btw, and bloopers from filming roll with the credits, among which is Eddie Munson making Steve Harrington lose his shit laughing on set while dressed in a Scooby Doo onesie and singing Corroded Coffin songs with his Scooby Voice

[malfoysanctuary]

To Have and To Hold

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred Weasley loves you recklessly, shamelessly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it is, maybe love is effortless when it’s him, when he twirls your wedding ring between his fingers and calls you his wife like he still can’t believe you’re real.

The first time you catch Fred Weasley playing with your wedding ring, you think nothing of it.

You’re seated at The Burrow’s worn kitchen table, comfortably tucked into his side, one of his arms draped lazily over your shoulders as he chats with George. It’s not unusual—Fred has always been tactile, always had a way of touching you like he needs to confirm you’re real. But then you feel it, the absentminded brush of his fingers against yours, the way his thumb traces slow, deliberate circles over the thin gold band on your ring finger.

You glance down, catching the way he spins the ring idly, over and over, his movements so effortless, so natural, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

You glance up at him, amused. “Enjoying yourself?”

Fred turns, grinning like the lovesick fool he is. “Mmm,” he hums, still twirling the band. “Just admiring my wife.”

Your stomach flips, warmth curling at the base of your spine, because he means it. He says it with no fanfare, no teasing lilt, just quiet, undiluted affection. And that’s the thing about Fred Weasley—he loves you loudly, but he loves you softly too.

And Merlin, you adore him for it.

────

He introduces you the same way every time.

Like now, in Diagon Alley, when you run into an old friend from school. Fred doesn’t even let you speak before he’s slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side, and grinning like he’s won the bloody lottery.

“This beautiful lady is my wife.”

Your friend raises an amused brow. “I do know who Y/n is, Fred.”

Fred shrugs, unbothered. “Doesn’t hurt to remind people.”

You nudge him with your hip, arching a brow. “Or yourself?”

Fred leans in, breath ghosting against your ear, voice dropping into something softer. “Especially myself.”

And suddenly, you can’t breathe.

Because there’s something raw in the way he says it, something earnest and unguarded, like even after all this time, a part of him still can’t believe you’re his.

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, in the steady rise and fall of his chest. He notices, because of course he does, and his arm tightens around you, thumb stroking slow, soothing circles against your side.

You shake your head, attempting to fight the smile threatening to take over your face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Fred presses a kiss to your temple, lingering. “Ridiculously in love with you.”

And you?

You love him just the same.

────

The shop is quiet when Fred finds you in the back room, tucked between shelves stacked high with merchandise. He corners you effortlessly, hands braced on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“Fred,” you sigh, arching a brow. “You’re in my way.”

Fred grins. “Am I?”

His voice is all honey and mischief, and Merlin, he knows what he’s doing. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him, close enough that you catch the way his lashes flutter as he looks down at you, the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting the urge to kiss you senseless.

You tilt your chin up, challenging. “What do you want?”

Fred hums, pretending to think. “Hmm… you.”

And damn him, because he means it.

He doesn’t move—not yet. He just watches you, watches the way your breath catches, the way your fingers twitch at your sides like you want to reach for him. He wants you to.

And maybe that’s why you don’t.

Instead, you smirk. “You already have me.”

Fred’s grin softens into something impossibly fond. His hand lifts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down, fingers grazing your jaw, your throat, before settling over your wedding ring. He twirls it between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his other hand splaying across your waist, pulling you closer until there’s nothing left between you.

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “Just like I know I’m never letting you go.”

It’s late when the two of you finally tumble into bed, limbs tangled, the scent of him all around you—firewood, spice, something inherently Fred. The world outside is quiet, but his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, grounding.

His fingers find yours under the sheets, and he does it again—twirls your wedding ring between his fingers, lazy and thoughtless, like a habit he’s never quite grown out of.

“Do you ever get tired of doing that?” you ask, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Fred’s lips twitch against your forehead. “Nope.”

You exhale a quiet laugh. “Why?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds you closer, presses a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. Then—softly, barely above a whisper—

“Because I still can’t believe you married me.”

You blink, something tightening in your chest.

Fred Weasley is the most confident man you’ve ever met. He can talk his way out of trouble, charm his way into getting what he wants. He’s brilliant and funny and devastatingly golden.

And yet, here, in the quiet safety of your shared bed, he’s just Fred. Just a boy who loves you so much it sometimes knocks the wind out of him.

Your throat feels tight as you shift, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, shining with that impossible, unwavering love.

So you reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, and whisper, “I’d marry you a hundred times over, Fred Weasley.”

Fred grins, slow and unbearably fond, fingers still toying with your ring.

“You’re stuck with me now, love.”

And Merlin, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[salmonight]

Fred Weasley x Hermione Granger x George Weasley Fic recs

(Mainly Fremione tho)

Fred & Hermione & George

Escapism: Hermione parents die when she is little and she gets placed with her abusive uncle. One day she runs off to find her own adventure and meets the twins in the woods. They instantly become besties. Adorable thing.

fun will be made if it is fun that is craved: Ex prankster Hermione plans a prank to deal with umibitch at the same time as a gift for the twins for the valentine's secret gift exchange

Fred/Hermione/George

Banned Books: Harry and Ron get mione banned from the library for two weeks and she is pissed. The twins cant miss out on the fun of helping her spirit a bunch of books away from the library and getting revenge on those two

Fred/Hermione

All One World: I rly adore the characterizations in this fic. Enterily Fred pov. He got insecurities about everyone thinking him stupid and that he can only ever be a comic relife. He also hates how they always talk as if he and George are one person, not different people no matter how similiar. Hermione wears his rule abiding rigid front as a defensive mask. She got more then one and theyre so perfect even Fred in the know sometimes forgets thats what theyre are. She is also sarcastic and witty and very caring and observant. She never fails to identify him right or know the right thing to put him at ease and he does the same for her pulling her out of her flunks.

Band Tees (You're Fucked.): Very bittersweet it literally made me fucking cry by the end. Fred had loved Hermione since the yule ball and he is the only one who knows about her love of grunge punk. They both share their love of punk music. It's just theirs.

Methods: Fred starts a playful flirty banter that Hermione decides to indulge him with joining in. Thats the first time she startles him. She is deadpan and sarcastic and all for teasing him and startling him. They keep up a fluid flirty banter no heed for the audience

A Charming Fairy Godprince: After Ron's mess up before the Yule ball Fred & George takes it into their own hands to cheer Hermione up and be her magical godfathers like Cinderella's. They rewamp her dress and enlist Ginny for her hair. Of course it cant go without over the top very obvious flirting (on Fred's part) and various compliments.

By the Common Room Fire: Fred is sick but still with the usual drama and flair lays across Hermione's lap and demans head scratches like a cat.

Destiny and Chicken: Hermione is sick so Fred brings her soup, tea and potions.

Exploding Potions and Accidental Revelations: Amortia explodes over Hermione in potions class so she smells like what everyone is attracted to. Fred commits social suicide by announcing she smelled the same as usual before knowing what is going on.

Favourite Weasley: The twins invite Hermione out to the Quidditch match. Who's her favorite Weasley? Wrong answers only.

It Looks Better On Me: The twins accidentally soak Hermione and it’s laundry day so Fred throws his jumper at her to wear. Then Fred is sick so he ain’t playing but out to watch the match so Hermione pulls her hat over his head. Later when he is better he flaunt it around so Hermione decides to steal another of his stuff in retaliation. It sparks an all out war.

While You Were Gone: Ron and Harry leave cuz they need a break after the war leaving mione behind which brakes her and the twins take it into their own hands. They basically adopt her as their third. Its rly fluffy and wholesome, warm and fricking hilarious . It also gonna make u wanna murder Ron and Harry :)

A Small Change: Fred got such a good grades in OWLs they thought he cheated but he didn', he is panicked about doing so well and wanna actually try in school so he writes to Hermione and she helps him. They become rly good friends from then and start to exchange letters and meet up a few times. Theyre rly wholesome and his anxiety about school and his family's reaction is just so real

don't you know you've got the best of me?: Hermione meets the twins and their friend group on the train and they meet again at the sorting. She ends up talking with the twins a few more times and they end up adopting her into their friend group. She aint rly that close with Harry and Ron and she befriended them much later. Most of her friends are all of the twins' year. She is the closest with Fred and theyre best friends, he is also very protective and possessive of her.

Whole New Meaning to "Mooning" Over Someone: When you throw something during the full moon your soulmate 'catches' i. Aka a frustrated Hermione throws her book during the full moon which consequently smashes into a poor sleeping Fred's face.

i wanted to see you again, so please be gentle: Soulmates and modern au with under caffeinated disaster Hermione bulldozing over the interaction not even realizing she met her soulmate. Absolutely hilarious first liner.

Straight Into My Arms: Every year since he was five fred asked for his soulmate from santa till one day they literally fell out of the sky and landed in their arms

George/Hermione

Fancy a night in?: Post-war. George finds any excuse to go over to Hermione's and make her smile.

To be updated...

[bellwood-qudditch]

Next Gen jobs

Teddy: Goblin liaison turned Stay at home dad

Victorie: Healer, turned Hogwarts school counsellor after 25 years at St. Mungo’s

Dominique: Record and archives keeper at the French ministry of magic + former bartender + former band member

Louis: St. Gringott’s desk job and then wizarding world equivalent engineer

Molly ii: Journalist for the ‘New York Ghost’ (American version of the daily prophet)

Lucy: Ministry secretary, specialising in PR.

Fred ii: Worker for his father’s business and eventual owner.

Roxanne: apprentice for Madam Malkin’s robes turned huge fashion designer

Rose: Professional quidditch player

Hugo: Paralegal turned Lawyer within the ministry of magic

James Sirius: Professional quidditch player

Albus: Worked in an apothecary in Diagon Alley, then became a potioneer for St. Mungo’s. And eventually became the Hogwarts potions teacher.

Lily Luna: Entrepreneur for her own skincare line within the wizarding world and eventually the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i know

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

could you do a Fred x reader? where the reader is Sirius daughter. And it shows not just in her looks, but how she acts? She’s very rebellious and is her own person. But is so much like her dad. They have very similar style in music and clothes. And she’s very close to him. And Fred never met her until the order of the phoenix. She had been ‘homeschooled’ and was ahead of many others that were at hogworts and she had went to muggle school and was very popular. She was going to hogworts that year and had caught Fred’s eye that summer the moment he walked in the door to grimuald place. They became great friends almost immediately. She would say anything and everything that came to mind. One time asking, “what if we made out like right now?” With a complete straight face and Fred was caught off guard. But that’s what he liked about her. She was herself no matter how much it killed others especially molly, who couldn’t stand Sirius and definitely couldn’t stand her. But Fred loved her anyway. and she knew the whole time Fred liked her but she acted dumb. So when he finally told her she was like, “I know” and went on to tell him every time he showed that he liked her and stuff. But she did feel the same and Sirius giving Fred a very hard time about it at Christmas

masterlist | navigation | p2

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The familiar sound of Grimmauld Place’s heavy front door creaking open filled the silent house. Fred Weasley stepped inside, taking in the dusty, dimly lit interior. He’d been to the Black family home plenty of times that summer, but there was something different today. His eyes scanned the room, and then he saw her.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at her lips, was someone who was unmistakably Sirius Black’s daughter. The resemblance was uncanny — the same rebellious glint in her eyes, the same unruly dark hair. Her clothes were a perfect match for her father’s eccentric style: a ripped band tee under a leather jacket, combat boots, and fingerless gloves. Everything about her screamed trouble in the most alluring way possible.

Fred’s breath hitched. He hadn’t met her until now. She’d been ‘homeschooled,’ as Sirius had put it, which meant she was well ahead of most witches and wizards her age. She'd spent her teenage years in both worlds, excelling in magic while becoming a popular face at her muggle school. He’d heard rumors about her — that she was bright, sharp-tongued, and a force to be reckoned with — but seeing her now, he was captivated.

“Oi,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna help me with this?”

Fred blinked, realizing she was holding a box that looked heavy enough to contain half of the Black family’s cursed heirlooms. He quickly moved forward, taking the other end.

“I’m Y/N,” she introduced herself with a wicked grin. “You must be the fun Weasley twin.”

“I’m Fred,” he said, managing a grin back. “The one and only.”

From that moment, Fred and Y/N became inseparable. She was the kind of person who spoke whatever came to her mind, no matter how off-the-wall or inappropriate. It was something that Fred found thrilling. It was clear she wasn’t trying to impress anyone — she was just herself. Completely unapologetic.

One evening, the two were sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place, the fire crackling softly as they talked about everything from Quidditch to muggle bands they both liked.

“You know,” Y/N said, a playful glint in her eyes, “what if we made out right now?”

Fred choked on the pumpkin juice he had been drinking, his eyes widening as he looked at her. Her face was completely serious.

“W-what?” Fred stammered, caught off guard by her boldness.

Y/N shrugged casually. “Just a thought. You looked like you were thinking about it anyway.”

Fred laughed, his heart racing. That was just her. She could drop bombs like that with the straightest face, leaving him scrambling to keep up. But that’s what he liked about her. She didn’t care what anyone thought, not even Molly Weasley, who clearly had a hard time handling the daughter of Sirius Black.

Fred couldn’t help but notice the way Molly’s lips tightened every time Y/N walked into a room, her rebellious nature clearly rubbing the older witch the wrong way. It was as if Y/N's very existence was a challenge to everything Molly believed in — and Fred found himself loving her for it all the more.

It was Christmas Eve when everything changed.

Grimmauld Place was filled with warmth for once, thanks to the holidays. The smell of Molly’s cooking wafted through the air, and the Order had gathered for a brief respite from the war. Fred had been sneaking glances at Y/N all evening. She had donned a jacket with patches of various bands and had opted to wear muggle boots with chains.

As the night wound down, Fred finally gathered the courage to pull her aside, the soft glow of fairy lights illuminating the hallway where they stood.

“I… I like you,” Fred confessed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve liked you since the moment I walked through that door and saw you standing there.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she broke into a mischievous smile.

“I know.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Y/N laughed, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “I knew. From the way you looked at me that first day, the way you’d always offer to help me with stuff, the way you’d try to act all cool whenever I said something insane.”

Fred’s face flushed. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to actually say it,” she teased. “But for the record, I like you too, you know. Even if you’re a bit slow on the uptake.”

Fred let out a relieved laugh, stepping closer. “Well, good. I was starting to think maybe I’d imagined all those looks.”

Y/N smirked, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Nope. You were right on the money.”

Christmas morning was… interesting.

Fred and Y/N had shared a few stolen kisses the night before, and when Sirius caught wind of it, he wasted no time in giving Fred a hard time.

“So, Weasley,” Sirius drawled over breakfast, a mischievous grin on his face. “I hear you’ve taken a liking to my daughter.”

Fred flushed red, glancing over at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh behind her cup of tea.

“She’s… er… well, yeah, I suppose,” Fred stammered, scratching the back of his neck.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “I’ll give you one thing, Fred. You’ve got guts. But let me just remind you — break her heart, and you’ll have to deal with me.”

Fred paled slightly, but Sirius’s laughter told him he wasn’t entirely serious. Still, the warning was clear.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Dad, stop scaring him. It’s fine.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not scaring him. Just giving him a little fatherly advice.”

Fred chuckled nervously, but as he glanced over at Y/N, who was smiling at him with that same rebellious spark in her eyes, he knew it was worth every bit of Sirius’s teasing.

After all, he had fallen for her — Sirius’s daughter, with her sharp wit, bold spirit, and the heart of a true rebel. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Trust me

Contains: Post Season 4, Hurt/comfort, implied sex, Eddie Munson X You, no Y/N, roommates to lovers.

🦇 🛋️ 🦇 😴 🦇

Eddie lived.

And now he lives with you. You invited him to stay with you in your apartment and lie low while the Sheriff’s dept and the FBI completed the investigation of the murders (and exonerated Eddie, obviously).

There is some damage to his tattoos and a half destroyed nipple but otherwise he was unharmed physically by the events in Hawkins.

Mentally, he struggles.

He is uneasy and anxious.

Extremely Jumpy.

You’ve taken to wearing an ankle bracelet that jingles so he’ll hear you coming and not panic.

He doesn’t sleep well. He’s always tired and can’t even nap. He’s not even cranky about it, he’s just listless.

Dustin says he’s very different from the Eddie he knew in High School. Almost the opposite. Revved Down.

Eddie tells you he can’t sleep anymore because when he closes his eyes he sees the murders. Even Fred’s, which he didn’t witness in person, his brain cruelly recreates on a loop of guilt with the other deaths. It does no good to tell him he shouldn’t feel guilty, he can’t turn off the feeling that if he’d done something differently… he could have saved them. Like he personally could have taken Vecna out if he knew the solution. Like he picked the wrong CYOA path. It’s ridiculous and he knows it but he can’t seem to change that feeling, especially at night.

In the time you’ve chosen to take him in as your own personal project— sorry… as your roommate and good friend - You have barely seen him close his eyes at all.

The chocolate orbs are usually on you, meeting your gaze, watching your movements. Curious as a cat.

Right now it’s breakfast and he’s watching you make cinnamon toast.

Your way. Which is a very specific way. Exactly how you like it.

He looks like he’s taking mental notes but his head is heavy on his hand and his shoulders are curved like he could almost fall over from fatigue.

The black eyeliner he let you decorate his eyes with is smeared over the dark circles under his eyes. The black nail polish on each short nail bed on each long skilled (guitarist) finger is chipped. You will offer to repaint it later.

Even bone tired in rumpled sweatpants and an old tshirt that has holes in the armpits and at the collar… he is still unbelievably hot.

Without a doubt, if you weren’t certain-sure he was not into you in the slightest, you’d have tried something already.

Probably. You have a type and it is this guy.

“Smells good.” Eddie suddenly says. Perking up slightly.

“Do you want some toast?” You ask.

“Yes, please, princess.” He uses his trademark terms of endearment with everyone. It isn’t condescending or anything. After all he calls Steve Harrington and ‘Coffin-Jeff’ from his band and Nancy Wheeler ‘Princess’, too. So you think it doesn’t mean much of anything.

He licks his lips in anticipation.

The man would live on foods that are nutritionally-void vessels for butter if you didn’t insist on the occasional salad or omelette.

“You can have as much as you like if you’ll take a nap for me after.” You promise, handing him a triangle of toast.

“With you?” Eddie raises his eyebrows in a twist of confusion.

“Yeah. I mean…At the same time.” You Disambiguate. He slumps slightly and nibbles on the crusts. “You could take the couch and I could take the loveseat… Unless…”

“Unless???” His eyebrows are back up, way up, hidden in the curly brunette fringe.

“Well….I’ve heard that weighted blankets help with uneasy sleep, nightmares, anxiety and stuff. We don’t have anything heavy bedding wise but…I could be your weighted sorta blanket…if you trust me.”

“You’d do that for me?” Eddie smiles softly. “Even knowing I usually wake up yelling and screaming about scary shit?”

You did not know that. “Of course. Let’s try something new, you need sleep and I want to help if I can.”

He finished the cinnamon toast in 2 bites.

You lead him to the big thrift store find monstrosity of a chesterfield that he had helped you heft into the apartment.

It was wide and deep and cozy.

“Will I fit?” Eddie looked skeptical. “I usually curl up on my side on couches, these darn legs are longer than they look…”

You pressed gently on his shoulders. “Trust me. Get comfy.” You insisted. “Bend one knee up against the sofa back.”

He flopped down on his back, hands behind head, legs slightly spread and gone boneless. “Climb aboard.” He said wryly.

You crawled from his bare feet up between his spread legs to ease yourself onto his body. You tried not to feel some kind a messy way about how he body-rolled against you as you both tried to find the most comfortable position. Eventually your head was resting on his broad chest.

You shifted and felt like you were gonna roll off him, off the couch, but he said “whoa, princess.” And wrapped an arm around you to keep you there.

You were held and warm and not a little bit well….to be honest you were just completely massively turned on by the perfect scent of him and being pressed against his body.

“You good?” You asked.

“Yea, sweetheart. How bout You?” Eddie whispered.

“I feel safe.” You lied. Because what you felt was more complex than safe could ever be.

“Good. When I get… uh…if you notice that I am…” Eddie cleared his throat. “Just know I’d never do anything. I promise.”

You peered up at him. Your turn to be very confused.

He stammered and his face reddened. “I mean if you feel uh… ‘little Eddie’ getting ideas down there, don’t worry, I’m in control. Just because you feel so nice… perfect even… know I’m at the helm, right? And I value our friendship and would never…”

“I thought I didn’t do it for you?? Like at all?” You stammered back.

“I mean, obviously you do. You Do all of it for little Eddie.” He gestured at his crotch which was pitching a size large (OMG is that real?) tent in the sweats. “You are hot and sweet and funny and whip-smart and you’ve got this ass that I… ::fuck:: I’m sorry, forget I said… I mean, I wouldn’t ever do anything about it, not ever.”

“Why the hell not??” You got up on your elbows and sat on his belly. You looked down at his gorgeous flushed face. He bit his lips hard.

“Princess, You mean too much to me. When I think about losing you…”

“Why would you lose me? I’m very hard to just…misplace.” You stuck out your tongue at him.

He gave you a small chuckle and his hands found your hips. Squeezed you there. One hand stroked down your leg to run a finger over your jingling ankle bracelet. Then he frowned and then his hands dropped away.

He took a deep shuddery breath. “I usually lose when I love… one way or another, it’s inevitable… I have extraordinarily bad luck.”

“Eddie, nothing is totally inevitable.” You touched his cheek. Rubbed his lower lip with your thumb. “Can you trust me just a little bit more than you fear bad luck?”

Perhaps a smile teased one corner of his mouth. Almost a smile. Nearly one. “I trust you, Princess.”

You dismounted Eddie and took his hand to lead him to your room. Soon to be his room too.

He did yell that night but not in an unhappy way.

[unofficialwriting]

She calls me Freddie (Pt.4)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Just fluff! A little corny but it’s Christmas and that’s Fred. This is arguably one of the most important chapters of the series

Summary: Winter break had finally arrived and it would turn out to be one of your favorites

Word count: 5.1k

(Part 4 - find all other parts here)

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The days following the first task crawled by slowly. And despite what had happened that night, nothing else followed. Once again, everything seemed to go back to normal between you and Fred. At least, as much as it could. You were able to go about your days as usual, but after admitting to yourself your feelings for him, you found it more and more difficult as time passed. It would only be so long before you slipped.

On that morning, the first snow of the season fell. It reminded you how close you were to the holidays. The early classes had been replaced with a gathering of each house with their head, Gryffindor with McGonagall. You found yourself in a wide corridor, boys and girls seated on either side and the professor at the center. Most students were on a long bench, some standing behind. You were one of them, leaning casually against the stone wall. Fred, who you attempted to avoid repeated eye contact with, had a similar stance across the room.

“The Yule ball has been a tradition of the Tri-wizard tournament since its inception,” McGonagall explained, turning across the room to speak to everyone. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance.”

The moment she uttered the words, the room erupted into noise; especially from your side. Most of the girls around you, including yourself, dove into enthusiastic chatter. Just the brief idea of going with Fred brought upon you a fresh wave of excitement and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction. To your surprise, his gaze had found you first. You sent him an exaggerated wink and watched his body shake with a laugh in return, not managing to completely avoid a prolonged stare.

“Silence!” McGonagall called, bringing the talking to a quick end. “The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons.”

The twins caught your eyes again, seeing them whisper together with two poorly hidden smiles. The professor continued, having not heard them. “Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

Ron made an attempt at whispering as well, but he was far worse at it. Laughing came from his direction, taking the attention of McGonagall. “Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley.

She strode over to the boy, standing before him. “Yes?” Ron asked with dread, sinking lower into his seat.

“Will you join me please?” She answered simply, not letting him reply before taking ahold of a bit of the fabric on his clothed shoulder. She dragged him out to the center of the room, every student behind him bursting into laughter. “Now place your right hand on my waist.”

“Where?”

“My waist.” She instructed firmly. Fred whistled a catcall to tease his brother, earning a glare instantly. The boy hesitantly did as his professor asked. “Mr. Filch, if you’d please.” Filch quickly began the music, which came out more as static while the machine started up. McGonagall pulled Ron around the room, demonstrating the waltz to everyone. Fred and George swayed as well to mock him.

“Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!” Most of the younger ones were in no hurry. Of all of them, Neville Longbottom was the first to stand, the rest following behind him and filing in to find partners.

You remained at your spot against the wall, not in a huge hurry to jump into the crowd of students. Besides, you had a feeling your partner would find you.

In mere seconds, Fred appeared and slid behind the benches to where you stood. He gazed down at you with a bright smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Would I be lucky enough to dance with the Y/n L/n?” His voice sounded silky smooth in your ears, despite the edge of playfulness.

You copied his tone with a raised brow. “Hm, would you?” He let out an exaggerated scoff, still holding your hand in his.

“I would.” He twirled you in front of him, Little butterflies flitting about in your stomach and any ounce of stubbornness leaving your body. “Shall we, my love?”

“Your love?” You questioned him as he led you out from behind the seats.

“Mhm,” Fred responded as if it was a casual thing to say, not bothering to explain himself further. You took the stance McGonagall had instructed, a hand holding his and the other on his shoulder. Confidently, he set a hand on your waist, pulling you in to close the space between you. How could you only be friends when he did things like that? He was usually flirty with you and had been for years, but what he was so blissfully unaware of was how hard it had become for you to keep your composure. Although, a part of you could admit that he likely knew fully.

The both of you attempted to dance through your poor excuse for the waltz. At first, you quite literally stepped on each others’ feet. One could argue that his were the victim far more than yours, but he didn’t care to admit it to you. Regardless of who was correct, It did not go unnoticed by you that Fred was much better at this.

“Have you done this before?” You questioned, watching a smile tug at his face. You tried to pause your dance, but he continued on, not missing a beat. “You have, haven’t you?”

His lips formed a smirk, having a slightly more difficult time keeping up with the music now that you were distracted. “I have,” he said casually, gazing down at you.

“Who was the lucky girl?” You meant it to tease him, although the question twisted at you. You preferred not to try and visualize the thought.

Fred twirled you again, catching you off guard since you weren’t paying attention. “Ginny,” The reply earned a snort of laughter from you. “Now would you focus? We’re going to get good at this before the dance.”

You only laughed more at his determination. Fred shook his head, fighting back his own smile. “I’m so sorry.” You giggled, bringing your attention back to the dance.

“That’s alright, I can forgive you.” He joked with you, leading you through the dance once more. After a while you had actually started to improve. And eventually you were successful enough that even McGonagall praised you.

After you had wordlessly deemed you’d had enough practice, your dance turned into something less and less formal. Fred would twirl you and then pull you back into his arms, swaying you to the music. The rest of the room left you as you made your little space; spinning, tripping, and laughing. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow you were even more head over heels for him than before.

By the time everyone had finished and McGonagall had regathered the room, the seating arrangements were abandoned and traded for simply standing around her. You and Fred stood toward the back of the group, him using your shoulder as an armrest.

“Now one more thing, everyone.” Your professor announced. “Since the ball will be held on Christmas, you all will be given the week in advance to return home. But spend this time wisely. I expect all of you to keep up on your studies.” McGonagall had to know that very few of the students in the room would willingly spend their break studying, especially when this year we would be given two.

“You all may go!” She dismissed us, letting everyone file out of the room. “And practice your dancing!” You exited the room with Fred, who finally let go of you. George came out of the large doors with Angelina. You hadn’t even noticed they were dancing together since you were so focused on your own partner.

“How on earth are you two not together yet?” She asked with a smile. You knew she meant nothing but well by the question but it was currently a touchy subject to talk about.

“Angelina,” you replied quietly, in hopes that she would take your hint. She was oblivious to it and spoke on.

“I’m just saying,” She continued playfully. You shook your head, unable to help having a little amusement at how clueless the girl was in that moment. “When you do start dating we won’t be able to tell; you already act married—” George suddenly cut her off by gently taking her arm.

“I had a question to ask you, Angelina.” He spoke simply and led the confused girl away to prevent her from talking further. The way he said it wasn’t very convincing, but you were grateful for him regardless.

You glanced up at Fred, who returned your gaze with both a puzzled and slightly nervous expression. It wasn’t often you saw him look nervous. He stood there Frozen for a moment, trying to form the correct words. But once he had finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Hermione and Ginny’s poor timing.

“Can you believe it?” Ginny asked, taking your arm. She and Hermione both wore a wide grin. “What are we going to wear?”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to figure that out, Gin.” Hermione responded, noticing the situation quickly. She glanced from Fred to you, taking on a little guilt in her expression.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” Fred told you, giving you a little smile and walking off in the direction of the common room. You sighed, every part of you wishing he’d had the chance to say what was on his mind.

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The first of two breaks approached quicker than expected and soon you found yourself on the train home to the Weasley’s. You sat by the window, admiring the land as it passed by. Though it hadn’t snowed in a while, it had been cold enough that there were still patches of white here and there; the rest had already melted away. Fred’s eyes drifted to you, his expression softening at the sight. Oh, how beautiful you looked to him there, staring out the small train window. He took your hand and squeezed it affectionately, pulling your gaze toward his. A short look was shared and little smiles were exchanged before you looked back through the glass.

The sun had already fallen by the time you arrived to the burrow. Every single one of you stood at the door: You, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Before George could even knock, Molly was at the door to greet you. “There you all are!” She welcomed you cheerfully, only letting you in after each one of you had a hug. She had always treated you, Harry, and Hermione as one of her own children.

Inside became busy quickly after your group’s arrival. Percy, Bill, and Charlie had already arrived and came to greet you when you entered. “Bill!” You exclaimed as you spotted him, giving him a quick hug. You had known Bill for less time, but he had become your older brother just the same as Charlie had.

“Have you gotten taller since last I saw you?” He questioned. You gave him a rather sarcastic expression in return. The last time you saw him was the summer before last and it was very likely you had grown since then.

Charlie greeted you the same way, except he was far more nosy. He gave you a big hug and another remark about the status of you and Fred. “Any updates?” You rolled your eyes at the question. God, it was getting so old.

“For the last time, Charlie.” You whispered, glancing back to see if Fred was anywhere near you. “We aren’t dating and we won’t be anytime soon, so give it a rest.” He shrugged playfully at your response, not quite believing your words. Up until then, you had meant it every time you said it. But this time you weren’t so sure. Either way, you wanted to change the subject. This wasn’t difficult to do with Charlie. All you had to do was ask him about his dragons and he completely forgot about any situation between you and Fred.

That night had been deemed an honorary Christmas Eve since actual Christmas would be spent at Hogwarts. Molly had prepared a wonderful dinner for everyone, which was loud and chaotic with so many people fitting into one table. You made it work just fine. The sound of laughter, stories, and cheerful conversation filled your ears and kept a smile to your face. This was truly your favorite place to be.

After dinner had concluded and the noise had begun to die out, Molly hurried you out of the room. It was Christmas Eve and she had more she wanted to accomplish before morning. You offered your help, but it was declined “You enjoy the rest of your night, dear.” She told you. So once everyone else had departed for their rooms, you climbed the stairs with Fred following behind.

“So, Ginny’s room then?” Fred started, waiting for you to make a questioning face to continue. “Unless, you know, you want to share my bed.” The slightest bit of heat burned in your cheeks at the notion and when you looked back, he wore an exaggerated smirk.

“Nice try, Weasley.” You replied, crossing your arms. You had made it to Ginny’s room but he had more sets of stairs to climb. “I don’t think your brother would take too kindly to that idea.”

“No, he likely would not.” He admitted simply, leaning against the wall beside you. “But it was worth a shot.” The boy winked and you shook your head.

You mimicked his stance, leaning against the doorframe. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight, darling.” He held your gaze for another moment and then continued down the hall. You felt like melting right into the door, following him with your eyes as he climbed the next flight of stairs and out of sight. A sudden longing filled your heart. You wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but part of you would want nothing more than to follow him.

Right then you came to terms with your situation. You would tell him your feelings. You didn’t know when or where, but you would. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with nothing more than quick touches and flirty questions forever.

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Morning came quickly, and you found yourself awake before everyone else. It was a tradition for you and Fred. Each year, on Christmas, the two of you would wake up several hours earlier than the others. And each year Fred would try and beat you downstairs. However, he was never fully committed to the task and always awoke much later.

This year was no different. While you sat on the couch with a book, the boy lumbered into the living room with a heavy yawn. Without even so much as a good morning, he collapsed onto the couch beside you and hurried his head into the cushion. You giggled and used a free hand to tail a strand of his hair.

“Every year it gets harder to wake up.” He complained, his voice muffled against the fabric. A sigh escaped his body at your touch.

“You poor thing,” was your response. You let him lay like that for a minute, without disturbing him, until he was a little more awake. Eventually, he sat up and slid across the couch closer to you, sitting beside you and reading over your shoulder. This didn’t keep Fred’s attention for very long and soon he turned his head to gaze out the window. It had snowed a little more last night, leaving everything covered in a thin blanket of white.

After a moment or so, he glanced back down at you to find your eyes still traveling across the pages of your book to soak up all the ink spoke about. The sight put a sense of relaxation into his body. He sunk back down into his seat, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

He admired you like this for as long as he could before you noticed. You lowered your book, and turned to meet his eyes. “What?” You questioned him. Instead of avoiding your eyes, Fred gazed back into them, not in the slightest attempting to avoid them.

“Just trying to figure out what’s so interesting about that book.” He teased, breaking out of the trance you had him in. You shook your head at the statement, setting it down beside you.

“I’m so sorry to have bored you.” You returned sarcastically, turning to face him in the couch. When you met his eyes again, it took all his willpower not to get stuck there.

“That’s alright, I forgive you.” Fred replied, smiling at the chuckle he earned from you. He glanced out the small window again, noticing the little white flurries that had begun to fall from the grey clouds in the sky above.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He suggested after a long moment. You followed his gaze out the window.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want, love.” He took your hands and lifted you to your feet, gathering your coat and his to bundle up for the cold. Fred kept ahold of your hand and led you out the door, the burst of cold air hitting your body immediately. It was a dreadful change from the warmth of the house.

Despite your complaints, you followed Fred out into the snow, watching the shape his footprints left behind. Blades of grass tried to poke through where you both walked, successful here and there since there hadn’t yet been enough snow to conceal it completely.

It didn’t take long for you to adjust to the cold, as much as one could be. The original shock of it was replaced with rosy cheeks and a pink nose. You drifted away from the house, arm in arm with Fred.

Crossing the pathway was a hazard. Instead of snow, a layer of ice coated the stone beneath. And without much thought, Fred stepped onto it, immediately sliding to the ground and dragging you down with him.

“Fred!” You exclaimed in surprise, hitting the ground hard. He unfortunately didn’t do much to break your fall.

“Sorry!” He apologized profusely, rubbing the back of his head where he made contact with the ice. He placed a hand on the ground beside you to try and steady himself enough to stand, but his feet slipped out from under him and he came back down to join you. You burst into laughter.

“Oh, you hush,” he remarked, not-so-gracefully pulling you with him to the edge of the path to gain traction in the snow. Finally, he managed to stand, lifting you with him by your hands. From then on you both avoided the path.

The two of you continued on, wandering around in the snow until your fingers started to freeze. Fred led you into his father’s shed, which was where he kept his collection of muggle artifacts.

He slid the door open enough for you to slip inside. There was no heat, but it was insulated enough to provide a significant relief from the weather outside. “God, it’s cold.” You complained, blowing into your cupped hands in an attempt to warm your frozen fingers.

Fred leaned against the counter on one wall of the little structure. He opened his arms as an invitation. “Well, you know body heat is the best way to warm up.” He stated confidently, sending you a smirk. You agreed a little too quickly and walked into his arms. Who were you to turn down such an offer? As much as you hated to admit it to him, he was absolutely correct. Warmth radiated from his body, relieving you from your cold temperature. You opened his coat and slid your arms around him inside it, making it even warmer.

“Better?” He asked, arms embracing you. You nodded, gazing up at him with frosty cheeks and a little smile. His expression softened at the sight, getting trapped by your eyes once more. Your face seemed to glow to him, despite how cold it was for you.

“Much,” You replied simply, breathing in the smell of his jacket. This particular one he wore often. He wore it the day of the quidditch game and it still smelled of gunpowder. You buried your face in it, shielding yourself from the cold air.

Fred scanned the shed casually, his eyes catching an old record player. He pulled away from you just a little to reach it, apologizing with a chuckle when you complained. You turned your head to follow his gaze, watching him put one of the records into it.

“Dad showed me how to use these,” he explained, smiling in triumph when the music started up. “It’s a little different than the ones we have.” A slow song played, one that you had never heard before. But it felt like silk in your ears.

Fred took your hand, pulling you to him as he did when you were dancing in the corridor mere days before. “You want to dance here?” You questioned with a raised brow. The tiny shed severely lacked the space. He set a gentle hand on your waist, which stole any remaining words from your mouth immediately.

“Yeah, why not? Just don’t break anything.” He teased, beginning to sway you to the music. “McGonagall did say to practice, didn’t she?”

With less space around you, you both had to take a little more care than before, but you managed. He spun with you, following the tune of the song. Right away, you could tell it wasn’t his first time hearing it.

A minute or so into it and you realized the meaning. It was a love song. And that made your heart absolutely sick. He twirled you and met you again, pulling you back to him so your body rested against his. The gentle vibration of his humming travelled from him to you, seeping directly into your heart. Fred’s hand slid from your waist up to your back, filling you with both nerves and excitement. The mixture of the two felt like electricity in your veins.

Throughout the entire song, he managed to keep his eyes on yours. He seemed so calm. As if none of this made him into a wreck like it did you. Maybe behind the composure, it did make him nervous. You wanted more than anything then to be able to read his thoughts and find out.

Fred gazed down at you with gentle eyes, containing enough warmth that you were sure you’d never again feel the cold of the morning. “Fred?” You started softly, barely managing to get above a whisper. You heart thumbed against your chest and you desperately hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Yes, darling?” He responded, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. He wasn’t making this any easier for you. You thought about your words, trying with everything you had to make sure you put them together correctly. Your steps became smaller as he focused on you, unable to choose which of your eyes to lock on.

You opened your mouth a little but nothing came out at first. There was so much you wanted to say and so little words fit to say it. “I-I don’t know how to tell you this.” You stuttered, which was rather uncharacteristic for you. Nothing had ever made you feel so nervous before. But now, as you stared up at Fred Weasley, the man you had slowly fallen so in love with, you couldn’t breathe. It must have been showing on your face, because his softened.

Fred lifted a hand to the side of your face, brushing his thumb delicately across your cheek. “Then let me.” He responded in the same hushed voice as yours. His expression changed just slightly, finally letting you pick up a hint of nerves.

He made up his mind, picking his other hand up to your face and leaning in to press his lips to yours. This time you let him. Your entire body lit up, sending a feeling from head to toe that made you want to burst. You slid your hands up to his chest, meeting him with the same longing he kissed you with. It was so long overdue.

He sighed into your lips before pulling away. But before you could even open your eyes he kissed you all over your face. From your forehead, to your cheeks, to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart, stomach, and lungs all doing flips. It was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Fred admitted, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, y/n. I have ever since I met you.”

You wanted to melt right into the wood of the floor at those words. Never did you expect to actually hear them. “I love you too, Freddie.” You told him, having no better way to say it than that.

His smile grew into a wide grin, having longed to hear you say that just as much as you longed to hear it from him. “Well then, my love,” he started, twirling you once more and then abandoning the dance altogether. “I would be nothing short of thrilled if we could prove my entire family and everyone else correct about us.” You could tell he had also waited a long time for this. It suddenly seemed silly how long the two of you had avoided the subject.

“I’d like that,” You responded, mimicking his grin. Fred seemed more full of joy now than you’d ever seen him. He still held you there, savoring the feeling of your touch that meant something a little different than before. Now that he had you, he never wanted to let go.

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You walked back through the snow, wanting to get to the house before everyone started to wonder where you were. The entire way Fred’s mind was focused on you like a horse with blinders on. It was only the cold bite of the wintery morning that convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. His arm held yours with care, unwilling to part from you yet.

This time you avoided the path, climbing the slippery stairs of the porch cautiously to avoid another mishap. Fred stopped you at the door, sliding an arm around your waist. “I know you’ve known my siblings almost as long as I have, but I’m still going to apologize in advance. I think they’ve all been waiting for this for a long time.” You both fought a laugh at the statement. It was comical how involved everyone was in your relationship except for you and Fred— until now of course.

“Has it been as bad for you as it has me?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone.

He freed his hand to grab the door handle. “Maybe worse,” Fred snuck in another kiss before pushing the door open, not realizing it would not go unnoticed.

You stepped inside only to be met by George, who stood across the room with his jaw practically on the floor. “George?” You called.

“George before you go making a scene, let’s—” Fred started, knowing full well his brother would be more than happy to make a scene. He, of course, was interrupted by George yelling up the stairs.

“Charlie!” He shouted, climbing the stairs when he didn’t get a response. As expected, he completely ignored the protests behind him. You exchanged a look with Fred, who carried the same expression as you.

You came in and hung up your coats, just in time to see all the Weasleys piling in one at a time. Ginny was first, followed by Hermione. She looked at you two and then up the stairs. “I’ve never seen George look so happy in my life.” She said skeptically, hearing him bang on Charlie’s door from downstairs.

“He’s going to announce our relationship to the entire house.” Fred complained, earning an immediate series of excited gasps from the girls. They gathered around you, forgetting Fred’s existence entirely.

Bill had entered with perfect timing. “Relationship?” He inquired. “Did you—.”

“Yes, Bill.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. So far none of this had gone to plan. “If you must know, it’s true. We’re together.” God, it was embarrassing to tell everyone like this. Even in knowing everyone here was family to you in every way but blood.

Ginny and Hermione both grinned, expecting a full explanation from you. “Really?” Bill questioned, clearly not quite believing what he was hearing. It had been several years in the making.

“Yeah well, we talked it out, weighed the pros and cons.” Fred remarked sarcastically, earning a poorly concealed laugh from you. He opening his mouth to speak again, but was once again interrupted by the appearance of another brother.

Charlie stepped off the bottom stair, followed by George. They both wore smug smiles. “Fred and I are never dating, Charlie! You’re crazy, Charlie! Give it a rest, Charlie!” The older boy mimicked what you had said to him just the night before, mocking your assurances. He walked over and ruffled your hair, sending his brother a wink. Fred rolled his eyes dramatically. “But was I really crazy?”

Bill crossed his arms, chiming in again. “You are crazy, yes.”

Charlie sent him a look and returned his attention to you two. “Except poor timing, you were one day late.” He frowned.

George stepped forward, holding a hand out to Charlie and Bill. Your eyes followed him with a puzzled expression. “I believe I’m owed something.” He said to the both of them. They sighed and handed over a few coins each.

You stared at them in shock. “You guys did not have a bet on us.”

“We did.” Charlie replied with no shame. “I told you right to your face we did.” He glared at George as he pocketed his money.

“I figured you were joking.” A sigh escaped you.

“Nope.” George stated simply. “Charlie thought it would be before Christmas, Bill thought after, and I knew it would be on Christmas.

“But this isn’t actually Christmas.” Hermione chimed in, questioning their logic. The three brothers exchanged a glance at her words.

Before any arguing started, Molly and Arthur arrived. “Morning everyone!” Molly greeted. “And congratulations!” She pulled you into a tight hug, heat rushing to your face. It was one thing when Fred’s siblings did it, but Molly and Arthur were a completely different story.

“Ok, mom. It’s Christmas, can we all avoid making this about us? You’re going to overwhelm my girlfriend.” Fred stated, earning gasps and looks from everyone in the room; including you. You knew Fred Weasley and you knew he did this on purpose. Your suspicions were confirmed upon seeing his subtle smirk.

Ron, Harry, and Percy arrived, completing the group. “Did we miss something?” Ron questioned, confused at why everyone was gathered around like this.

George elbowed his brother. “Didn’t you hear? Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” He said, sending you a wink. You hoped your cheeks were still red from the cold so it would cover your blush.

Ron started a reply but was stopped by Arthur swooping in to save you. “Alright Weasleys, let’s not forget it’s Christmas!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the heavily decorated tree and the pile of gifts surrounding its base. You sighed, thankful for the distraction. Fred squeezed your shoulder gently as a silent apology, but all you responded with was a silent giggle. The whole situation was ridiculous.

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It didn’t take long before the entire group was gathered around, each of you sorting the the gifts to find the ones with the correct name. Molly had knitted everyone a new version of her famous sweater, all with the initial of who it belonged to sewn into the front. Before you knew it, each and every one of you had found theirs and put it on.

You glanced at the girls in time to see them exchanging neatly decorated gift boxes, turning to you with yours. Across the room, Ron laughed at something Harry received loudly enough that it caught the attention of half the family. Beside you, Fred and George looked through the box of materials you gifted them; all things they could use in whatever experiments they pleased.

“Alright, I have a special one for you.” Fred told you, pulling your attention to him.

“Is that so?” Your eyes landed on a small box he pulled out. It was wrapped in an obvious failed attempt to be perfectly neat, but you loved it just the same.

As you reached out to take it from him, he held it playfully out of your reach. “Fred!” You exclaimed, severely exaggerating an annoyed expression. He laughed brightly, letting you struggle for another moment before handing it over. You snatched it right out of his hand, eyeing him.

“Oh just open, darling. The anticipation is killing me.” He told you, leaning a hand on the ground to sit over your shoulder. You shook your head and carefully tore open the packing, once again wondering if Fred fully knew the effect he so easily had on you. Beneath the paper and tucked inside a little box lay a bracelet. The sight made you practically melt. The piece of jewelry was the exact one you had pointed out that night at the quidditch game, so many months ago.

“It’s the one I told you about. You kept it for this long?” You smiled at the pride in his expression. Fred took the bracelet and your wrist, gently tying it on for you. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by his twin brother.

“It was almost longer too.” George cut in, still sifting through the box in front of him. “He would’ve left it at Hogwarts if I hadn’t seen it with his things and so heroically rescued it for him.”

Fred gave him a look, shoving his shoulder. “Well look, my intentions were good.” He swore, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“It’s perfect, Freddie. Thank you.” You replied, brushing your thumb over the surface of your bracelet. He smiled down at you with an expression somehow even happier than that of this morning.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple.

Merry Christmas,” You replied in the same manner, unable to keep a grin off your face. What a perfect Christmas it was turning out to be.

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[papervenom]

✩ chapter fifteen: scavenger hunt ✩

summary: your fourth year starts with the return of the triwizard tournament— and a relationship with cedric diggory that should feel steady, but doesn’t. when harry’s name gets pulled from the goblet, everything shifts. the trio starts to crack, and being with cedric only adds to the tension. you’re sure about how you feel , you love him. but someone else is pulling for your attention, and it’s getting harder to ignore. a slow-burn, character-driven take on goblet of fire, told through your perspective

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, jealousy, angst, intense pining, ron being a hater, draco being draco, fluff, so much sexual tension/slight lewd!

authors note: there’s no actual smut, but consider this a build up coz its coming! cedric is so severely down bad. so is reader.

word count: 12.1k (im so sorry)

INSATIABLE MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

December 2nd, 1994

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. In two weeks, we and our guests will gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity..." Professor McGonagall announced as she stood at the front of the assembly room— having gathered all members of Gryffindor House to give us the dance rehearsal that most of us have been dreading.

Behind her, Filch clunkered into the room carrying a gramophone with a sound horn so massive, I was positive I could crawl inside of it.

"As representatives of the Host School," McGonagall continued, "I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally, because The Yule Ball is first and foremost... a dance."

A collective groan emerged from all the boys whilst the girls started chattering excitedly amongst themselves. 

"Silence!" McGonagall's stern voice resounded around the room as she extended her arms out to shut us up. "The House of Godrick Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizarding World for nearly ten centuries! I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling, band of baboons!" 

"Try saying that five times fast, huh?" I heard George whisper to Fred behind me.

"Babblingbumblingbandofbaboons," replied Fred, accepting the challenge.

"Bamblingbubblingbandofballoons," retorted George, messing up the words.

"Battlingbunglingbandofbuffoons," responded Fred once more, making me stifle a laugh.

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe... inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers— longing to burst free and take flight!" McGonagall enthused, moving her hands dramatically. 

"Something's about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don't think it's a swan," Ron muttered to Seamus a few seats over. 

Poor Eloise Midgen had a bad case of acne and had tried using a curse to get rid of her pimples for good, but ended up failing and needing to have her nose reattached by Madam Pomfrey. 

Luckily, Eloise didn't hear Ron's rude remark, but Professor McGonagall did because she began rounding up on him— making his blue eyes widen like plates.

"And inside each boy, a lordy lion prepared to prance— Mr. Weasley!"

"Yes?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Would you join me, please?" 

Professor McGonagall stuck her hand out towards Ron and everybody broke into skittish laughter while he glanced around in panic, hesitating for too long— which resulted in Harry pushing Ron forward with an amused grin plastered on his face.

"Now then, if you will, put your left hand on my waist," instructed McGonagall.

"Where!?" replied Ron alarmingly.

"My waist," repeated the Professor and Ron grudgingly obeyed.

The moment Ron’s hand was placed, Fred let out a wolf whistle which made Ron's face turn a deep shade of red.

"That's right, Weasley. Now, extend your arm... and, Mr. Filch, if you would." 

At the Professor’s instruction, Filch gently dropped the gramophone's needle onto a dusty, old record and a musty waltz began to fill the room.

"Now, follow me. And one, two, three. And one, two, three." Professor McGonagall counted as she and Ron began to twirl hand-in-hand around the room.

I giggled as I watched Ron step awkwardly and out of rhythm— his big feet nearly stomping on Professor McGonagall's smaller ones.

Every now and then, Ron would give fleeting, tedious glances to where I was sitting and I soon realized why.

Behind me, Fred and George were ruthlessly mocking their little brother.

"Laa, la dee daa..." Fred sang along with the melody, a dreamy smile on his face as he held an imaginary dance partner.

George moved side-to-side stiffly like a robot, which wasn't drastically different from the way that Ron was dancing.

"You're never going to let him forget this, are you?" I chimed, grinning brightly at the twins.

The twins smirked at each other before diving down to kneel so they were both sandwiching me. 

"Never," they replied cheekily in unison.

I was humorously swatting them both for being so cruel to Ron when Harry tapped me on the shoulder, nodding towards Neville who had his eyes closed and was bobbing his head side-to-side, completely transported by the music.

Harry, Hermione, and I were laughing when Professor McGonagall clapped her hands, making us all jump in our seats.

"Everyone! Let's come together..."

Many of the girls instantly shot up from their chairs, contrasting drastically with the guys who all looked flushed in the face and stood reluctantly. 

Most of the boys had their eyes on me as they timidly began approaching me to be my dance partner but they quickly got scooped up by an eager Gryffindor girl who hastily pulled them onto the dance floor. 

Parvati coupled up with Seamus, Alicia was yanking Dean by his tie, and George was basically being dragged by a determined Angelina.

Ron seemed relieved to be excused from dancing with Professor McGonagall and was heading over towards me promptly when Lavender Brown nearly pounced on him. 

Hermione, Ginny, and I seemed to be the only sane ones among the girls— standing serenely as we scanned the room for who was left.

Harry gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile, taking her hand awkwardly as they joined the others and started to sway.

Neville was next as he approached Ginny with blotched cheeks and his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his trousers.

By then, I was so sure that my lack of enthusiasm to find a partner cost me the opportunity to join the rehearsal, and was about to sit down in solace when Fred suddenly took my hand without asking me and spun me around. 

"Hey!" I exclaimed in surprise, giggling heartily as I tried to regain my balance. 

"Helloo there," Fred smirked down at me, his hand gripping my waist. 

He kept doing great moves— though he was a bit brusque as he spun me around at ease like a rag doll. 

I was astounded to find out that he knew how to dance pretty well, considering Ron danced like a dork.

"Soo, tell me. How did Darling-Diggory ask you to the ball?" Fred asked and my face immediately fell.

The truth was that even though we found out about the dance two weeks ago, Cedric still hadn't asked me to be his date.

Sometimes, I'd be standing around waiting for my next class and he'd sneak up behind me and throw his arms around my waist. 

I'd think that after the lovely surprise, he'd ask me to the ball but Cedric would simply rest his chin on top of my head and ask how my day was going before leaving for his next lesson.

Fred snickered as I remained stoically silent , continuing to lead our dance by steering me around the rest of the couples.

"Well, now that you know that I'm such an unbelievable dancer— how would you feel about going with me, hm?" 

I laughed brightly, rolling my eyes at what I thought was another joke coming from him but Fred simply stared at me expectantly, his copper eyebrows raised.

"Well, thanks Freddie... I'll keep that in mind. But I assume Cedric will ask me soon."

The twin pressed his lips together in discontent yet quickly played it off into an apathetic shrug.

"That's fine. Your loss, sugar!" he teased and twirled me around spontaneously.

"Oh, for sure." I tittered, my voice bubbly.

A couple of waltzes later, Professor McGonagall finally let us go and we couldn't get out of the assembly room fast enough.

Once we were back outside in the castle’s hallways, we set off into the boisterous scene in front of us as we headed to the Great Hall for our Potions final, which our whole year would be taking before the Christmas holidays. 

We observed as girls were giggling and whispering in the corridors, shrieking with laughter as boys passed them and excitedly compared notes on what they were going to wear to the ball.

"Why do they have to move in packs?" Harry asked Ron glumly as a dozen or so girls stalked past us, tittering and staring at Harry. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Ron suggested, making Hermione and I snort. "Got any idea who you're going to try for, Harry?" 

Harry didn't answer, but I knew perfectly well whom he'd like to ask.

I saw the way his cheeks turned crimson whenever Cho Chang was around. 

And it made sense. 

She was gorgeous, a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular. 

She was Harry's dream girl.

Ron seemed to know what was going on inside Harry's head, too— because he quickly started to consolidate him.

"Listen, you're not going to have any trouble. You're a Triwizard Champion! You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail, for Merlin's sake. They're basically queuing up to go with you!" 

"At this point, I'd rather have another round with the dragon..." Harry mumbled morosely.

"You act as if you haven't been asked already." Hermione scoffed, not looking up from the book of notes she was reading in preparation for the exam.

She was right. 

In fact, Harry and I were the only two in the group getting inundated with proposals to go to the ball.

During the last two weeks, I had turned down several invitations without giving them a second thought, including a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy that I'd never spoken to in my life, three Durmstrang students, two Slytherin boys, and a Ravenclaw boy who was a lot shorter than me. 

'He was quite good-looking,' Hermione had said fairly after she'd stopped laughing.

'He was a foot shorter than me! Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with him!' I had replied, never having taken the request seriously since my heart was set on Cedric.

As for Harry, he was struggling to figure out if the girls who had asked to be his date wanted to go to the Yule Ball with him because he was a Champion, or because they actually liked him.

When considering Harry's dilemma, I thought about how drastically his life had improved since he had gotten through the first task of the tournament.

He wasn't attracting nearly as much unpleasantness from other students anymore, which we both knew had a lot to do with Cedric— who told the rest of the Hufflepuffs to leave Harry alone.

I was musing over this and didn't notice when three Durmstrang boys marched right in front of me in V-formation and swooped down to a bow.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, startled by them. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stopped walking and were standing to the side as they curiously observed.

"Would you please come to the ball with me?" the Durmstrang boy in the front asked in a husky voice, taking my hand in his swiftly and kissing it.

"Uhm, no. Sorry. I think I'm going with someone else?" I said, my voice sounding so unsure that it came out more like a question.

"You think?" he replied, blinking slowly.

"Sorry," I repeated sheepishly and he nodded, marching over to ask a girl from Beauxbatons a few feet away who accepted in a heartbeat.

We went quiet for awhile as we entered the vacant Great Hall and sat down, taking the necessary materials out for the written exam.

"No word from Cedric yet, then?" Harry finally broke the silence, asking casually as he rummaged his bag for a quill.

My cheeks went hot as I peered up at Ron who was staring at me hopefully in the seat across from mine.

The other morning, I had been walking down the staircases from the girls' dormitories when I had stopped and overheard Ron speaking to Harry, Dean, and Seamus about me in the Common Room.

'I like the way that she moves.' Ron had said, speaking dreamily to his friends. 'It's like she's floating on a cloud, y'know? She makes my bloody heart rush.'

'She is fucking unreal, mate. But ain't she goin' to the ball with Diggory, tho'?' Seamus had asked in his heavy Irish accent. 

'The git hasn't asked her yet.' Ron scoffed in disbelief. 'I don't know why that wanker is taking so long,'

'So, what do you plan to do then? Ask her before he does?' Dean inquired.

'I'll have a good fucking go!' Ron assured determinedly, and I had been avoiding being left alone with him ever since.

I cleared my throat, snapping out of my thoughts as I looked at my friends who were all waiting for an answer.

"Well, no. But I reckon he'll ask me soon. I'm flattered by all the requests I'm getting, but I don't understand why people go through the trouble of asking me when they already know I have something going on with Ced." 

Ron's shoulders slumped in disappointment as I said this, and I felt sick with guilt. 

He stared off into his blank parchment, lost in deep thought as Harry glanced over at him uneasily. Beside me, Hermione caught my eye and shook her head— smiling reassuringly, as if she were telling me not to worry about it.

The Great Hall slowly began filling up— its massive doors opened wide to the chaos outside as students rushed to their next lessons.

Strolling by was Viktor Krum who was holding some library books while a group of girls trailed him, all looking tremendously stupid.

He briefly looked into the Great Hall and his step faltered— sharing a lingering look with Hermione before disappearing out of  view.

When I turned to Hermione in awe, she acted aloof as she brought her attention back to her book, pretending as if she hadn't noticed Viktor at all as she continued to prepare for the exam.

This was the second time that I'd noticed something going on between Viktor Krum and Hermione.

"'Mione—?" I started to question but was interrupted when the Weasley twins barged into The Great Hall, earning a grateful look from Hermione who managed to escape my interrogation.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Ron gruffly, still in a sour mood after I made it clear I wasn't going to accept anyone else's invitation to the ball other than Cedric’s. 

"We're going to help the House-Elves cook dinner," said Fred sarcastically as they sat down at the table with us, taking wrinkled parchment out of their bags.

"We're taking our Potions exam, you stupid great prat," informed George to his younger brother.

"We were getting our ears pulled by Filch after he confiscated our Canary Creams and didn't get to do our exam with our year. By a bloody miracle, we got Snape to agree to let us complete it with you lot. Gods know if we fail another exam, Mum will send a Howler." mumbled Fred.

Snape had walked in just then and the Great Hall immediately fell silent. 

The only table who continued their chattering were the Slytherins, but Snape didn't tell them to hush—  always giving them ridiculous exceptions that any other House couldn't get away with.

"So... you all got dates for the ball yet?" George whispered. 

 "Nope," replied Ron glumly.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate. Get a move on or all the good ones will be gone," advised Fred in a low tone.

"Who're you going with, then?" demanded Ron.

"Angelina," responded Fred promptly.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," agreed Fred and turned his head to where Angelina was sitting— a few seats down, printing her name on her parchment. 

"Oi! Angelina!" he hissed.

Angelina looked over at him warily.

"What?" she murmured back.

"Do you," Fred pointed at her, his voice soft and nearly inaudible, "want to go to the Ball," he continued, miming a dance much like we had done earlier, "with me?" he concluded, pointing two thumbs at himself and wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"To the ball? Yeah, alright..." she whispered and turned back to her piece of parchment with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," Fred turned to us and winked obnoxiously, "piece of cake."

"You all know why you're here," drawled Snape, gaining our attention. He strode towards the Staff table and turned to us dramatically, his black robes swiveling as he glared at us menacingly. "You have until the sand hits the bottom of this Hourglass to complete three rolls of parchments on the properties and ingredients used to construct your personal antidotes. With the exception of the two dunderheads in the room who have to complete five rolls worth of parchment on how to properly brew a Strengthening Solution."

Fred and George waved enthusiastically to the whole room as Snape introduced them as the two dunderheads, making everyone except the haughty Slytherins erupt in cackles.

"Silence!" Snape growled, and once we did— he turned the Hourglass upside down and all that could be heard in the Great Hall was the sand slipping on the Hourglass and the scribbling of quills.

I hadn't studied much but I'd done well when brewing my antidote, so I had no trouble writing an essay on how I did it.

After about an hour of complete concentration, we had gotten up and turned in our exams to a scowling Professor Snape. 

There was still time left on the Hourglass and we knew Snape wouldn't dismiss us until the bell rang, so we just sat in dull silence until Ron started huffing about the dance again.

"This is mad. At this rate, we'll be the only ones in our year without dates." Ron complained lowly to Harry.

I watched as Snape squinted at Ron maliciously from across the room— taking long strides towards him when he noticed Ron talking and pushed his head down roughly.

Ron's long, auburn locks grew disheveled from the force. He stayed silent, waiting for Snape to walk away before he turned to Harry and started whispering again.

"Well, us and Neville," he teased, glancing at Neville who looked like he was about to burst into tears as he wrote on his parchment, using an unnecessary amount of ink that was causing his essay to smear.

"Yeah, but, then again— he can take himself," Harry replied, referring to Neville's eagerness to dance.

Every evening since finding out about the ball, we would find Neville dancing on his own in the Common Room. 

He would put on his shiny, new leather dancing shoes and practice his steps for the ball.

Ron chuckled, nodding in agreement as he brushed his tousled hair away from his face.

"It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone!" Hermione seethed in a hushed tone before returning her gaze to the ginormous book she had brought for what she considered to be light reading.

Ron huffed exasperatedly, checking to make sure Snape was far away before turning back to the table.

"Now I'm really depressed..." he muttered. "We need to ask someone fast, Harry. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls." Ron urged him.

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation and I scoffed at Ron's poor wording.

"A pair of what, excuse me?" she hissed. 

I shook my head at Ron in disapproval, but he didn't seem to back down.

"Well— you know," defended Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with... say, Eloise Midgen."

As Ron was speaking, Harry started nudging Ron's side frantically but Ron was too caught up with slandering Eloise for the second time today that he didn't notice Snape approaching. 

Snape used the notebook he had at hand and rapidly swatted Ron's head with it.

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry lowered his head preventatively, yet still earned an unreasonable smack from Snape's notebook soon afterward.

Snape stood over us threateningly for a few passing seconds before rushing off to smack a boy from the Hufflepuff table who was talking with his friend as well.

"Her acne's loads better, lately— and she's really nice!" Hermione continued defending Eloise.

"Never mind that. I just need to know who hasn't been asked yet. It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone, but for a girl, it's just sad." 

Hermione sighed in frustration and stuck her nose back in her book.

"I just know that you would look much less stupid than I will, without a partner. The Champions are meant to be starting the dance. What am I going to do? Dance with myself?" Harry grumbled.

"Bloody hell. That's what I'm saying, mate. We have to get a move on!"

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," Harry said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor.

"Look. We've just got to grit our teeth and do it," whispered Ron, and I winced as I saw Snape's beetle eyes land on him once more. "Tonight, when we get back to the Common Room, we'll both have partners— agreed?" asked Ron.

I sunk in my seat as Snape pushed back the sleeves of his robes.

"Er... okay. Agreed," replied Harry to Ron reluctantly and both of their shaggy heads got shoved down by Snape— earning a groan from the two of them.

I was quickly growing bored of all the Yule Ball talk. 

I wondered if it wouldn't bother me as much as it did if Cedric would have already asked me to be his date, but I still couldn't imagine myself obsessing over this ball like the majority of the school was.

"Professor, may I be excused to the restroom?" I asked, raising my hand and half expecting Snape to whack me just like he did Ron and Harry.

"Make it quick," Snape replied boredly, but I packed all my things anyways— knowing the bell would ring in a few minutes.

Once stepping out into the empty hallway, I approached the nearest window that looked out to the Viaduct Courtyard and took advantage of my solitude to let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I'd been racking my brain for the past few days and had begun to overthink of some reasons as to why Cedric hadn't asked me yet.

The pessimistic voice in my head had somehow rationalized that he might've possibly lost interest in me.

Maybe I freaked him out the last time we were alone together while we were making out?

It was unlikely, but I couldn't think of another reason. 

I huffed as I dug into my bag for my carton of cigarettes.

It was the same kind I found Cedric smoking in the Courtyard that night with his friends.

It was a bad habit to pursue, but they were Cedric's favorite, and they relaxed me whenever I felt anxious. So I placed one of them between my lips and stuck my hand back in my bag in search for my lighter when an arm suddenly reached over from behind me and clicked a fancy, silver lighter on which lit the end of my cig.

I whirled around to find Draco Malfoy storing the expensive lighter back into his pocket and leering at me. 

"Ugh," I complained and turned away from him to continue walking down the corridor to be alone again, taking a drag from the lit cigarette between my fingers.

"You're welcome," Draco called out sarcastically, chuckling at my irritation.

"What the fuck do you want?" I snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him furiously which only made his smirk grow wider.

"Wanna know what I saw today, princess?" he asked coolly, and when I didn't answer— he continued, anyway. "Your perfect gentleman of a boyfriend flirting with a Beauxbatons girl." 

"Right. Because that totally sounds like Cedric," I laughed coldly, rolling my eyes and letting out a puff of smoke.

"Don't believe me, if you want." Draco shrugged, strolling closer to me. "But she was really pretty. Her beauty was a bit... surreal. A lot like you, in that sense— she walked into gardens and everyone was staring. Sound familiar?"

There was no denying that the Beauxbatons girls were fucking goddesses. 

They were so graceful and carried themselves like queens, but I was sure that Fleur wasn't the only Veela within them.

Maybe Cedric wasn't exempt from the Veela effect, after all.

Maybe he got lured by one of them and asked them to the dance. 

I was freaking out inside and when Draco noticed, he didn't hesitate to step closer to me— his icy, blue eyes sizing me up.

"Go with me," he murmured.

"What?" I burst out laughing. 

His jaw clenched as I continued giggling, finding him absolutely absurd.

"Go to the Yule Ball with me," he repeated, inexplicably confident. 

His face was so close to mine that I could smell the heady, lavish fragrance of the cologne he was wearing. 

When he dipped down so his nose was grazing my neck, I cringed away from his touch.

"Why would you think I'd ever consider going to the ball with you? You fucking sicken me," I fumed and pushed past Draco, proud of how even my voice sounded. 

"You know that's not true," Draco persisted, so sure of himself— but I didn't even look twice in his direction as I took a few more drags from my cigarette and flicked it out the window just as the bell rang.

Students started pouring out of the Great Hall, and once I spotted my friends emerging— I took my place beside them and tried to distract myself from what had happened with Draco.

"Hermione— who are you going to the ball with?" Ron asked curiously as we stood leisurely by the entrance hall. 

Hermione was about to answer before Draco stalked up on us, joined by his gang of imbeciles now. 

"You're joking, Weasley!" laughed Malfoy apathetically, "you're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball!? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"

I was murdering the Slytherin with my eyes as I debated to instill the Knee-Reversal Hex on him— but Hermione suddenly waved to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"

Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, who was nowhere to be seen. 

"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" I cooed scathingly, and we all laughed heartily as Draco stormed away with his friends following behind him.

We were about to head up the marble staircases for our History of Magic lesson when someone called my name from the other end of the corridor.

"(Y/N)!" The voice called out again and soon, a boy from Cedric's Quidditch team  was rushing to get to me.

His name was Robert. 

I recognized him because I met him in the library last year when he and his friend Nick approached me. They were ceaselessly flirting with me, and Cedric had stepped in to save me from the uncomfortable situation, making it the first time we ever spoke.

"Oh, hey Robert," I greeted him casually and he seemed momentarily dazed— thrilled that I happened to have remembered his name.

I was almost afraid he would ask me to the ball and was already prepared to turn him down when he started digging his hand into the inner pockets of his robes.

"Here, this is for you," he said bashfully and handed over a piece of parchment to me before bustling away to his next lesson.

It was sealed by a stamp, the wax imprinted by the Hufflepuff crest. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped closer as I ripped the wax off gently— the three of them peering over my shoulder so they could read the parchment with me.

When I saw you for the very first time,

I immediately longed to make you mine. 

In this place, a certain hat called your bluff as you almost got sorted into Hufflepuff. 

I instantly started grinning stupidly the moment I read the riddle— immediately recognizing Cedric's neat handwriting.

"Oh, (Y/N)! It's a scavenger hunt!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, but her face soon contorted to worry as the bell rang, signifying the start of our History of Magic class.

"I'll catch you later guys! Um, tell Professor Binns I'm not feeling well," I exhorted giddily.

"You're not coming to class!?" Hermione asked in bewilderment and I shook my head, giving each of my friends exuberant hugs before I turned on my heel to head back to the Great Hall.

Ron stared after me, looking defeated.

I knew Professor Binns, the sole ghost educator at our school, wouldn't notice my absence. He barely noticed that he was dead— as he read right off the textbook in a tedious monotone. 

All I had to do was read the next few chapters and I'd be right up to date. 

The most important matter at hand was Cedric's riddle, which I knew would lead me to the Great Hall the moment I read it because it was the place where he and I saw each other for the first time while I was getting sorted.

I remember feeling petrified at the prospect of being sorted into any other House other than Gryffindor, already having made strong friendships with Harry, Ron, and Hermione— but when the sorting hat entertained the idea of putting me in Hufflepuff for my loyalty, dependability, and benevolence, the first person I noticed was Cedric and his handsome face and Hufflepuff didn't seem too bad of an option right then. 

The Great Hall was deserted from students when I had returned, and it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

I hesitated for a moment, debating where Cedric would've hidden the next clue and I decided to check where he had been sitting the night of my sorting— rushing over to the right side of the Hufflepuff table and began running my hand underneath the edge until I felt another thick piece of parchment.

I yanked it off, it having been stuck to the table with Spellotape, and my eyes lit up as I read the next clue.

For a long time I've been watching you, searching for any excuse to speak. 

In this location, I would stare at you as you made my knees grow weak.

"Cedric Diggory, you're fucking adorable," I gushed aloud to myself, remembering the stolen glances we'd give each other at the library, and immediately headed off towards there.

Hogwarts' library wasn't too far from the Great Hall, but I still took rapid steps and stormed in frantically— eager to get through the scavenger hunt.

Madame Pince shushed me furiously but I paid her no mind, already searching every single chair I've ever seen Cedric sit in back when he was just a mysterious, nameless, attractive Hufflepuff boy that I used to crush on.

After some time, I couldn't find anything and was starting to feel dejected until I turned to the aisle of bookshelves where Cedric had first approached me when his housemates Robert and Nick were shamelessly flirting with me.

Cedric seemed to have conjured the parchment of the next clue because it was folded like a bird and was flying around overhead in circles. 

I laughed breathlessly as I jumped to grab it— the paper bird flying higher as my fingertips brushed it.

I tried one more time, standing on my tip-toes, and finally grasped it— peeling the wax off and unfolding it eagerly.

There is no way I could deny, that to die by your side, would be a heavenly way to die. 

It seems like I've been waiting for you forever, here we had our first conversation in the rainy weather. 

I grinned at the song reference, knowing I had to go to the Clock-Tower Courtyard where Ced and I had once sat on that drizzly day— listening to The Smiths. 

I ran out of the library, smiling like a little kid as I trotted down the same corridors I walked with Cedric when we started to get to know each other that evening. 

As I passed the hallways, I noticed how the Hogwarts staff went beyond all of our expectations to continue to impress our foreign visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang during the holidays.

I always thought the castle looked at its best during Christmas time, but this year— it felt like walking in a dream.

Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase— the usual twelve Christmas trees were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. 

It was quite something to hear "Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy" hummed by empty helmets. 

When I got to the Courtyard, there were a few students milling around, seemingly skipping out on class.

They probably thought I looked insane as I crawled on all fours to search for the next parchment under the window sill where Cedric and I had sat down to listen to music on my Discman.

When I found it, I let out a hearty whoop and immediately ripped it open.

You had me feeling quite Shakespearean as I stripped the Greenhouse from its Red Peonies and Valerian. 

Here, I rushed to your care, and once I saw you smile— you had me feeling like I could walk on air.

I was still out of breath from rushing from the library but my patience wasn't wearing me thin yet. 

I enjoyed reliving past memories that I had of Cedric and my timid beginnings. 

My next location was the Hospital Wing and once I got there, I found the next clue hidden underneath the bed that I inhabited after Snape jinxed me last year.

This same day, I couldn't contain myself anymore— you were the most perfect girl that I could ever ask the Gods above for. 

Right here we stood, under the sky so blue. 

I told you that I wanted to get to know you.

Right after checking on me in the Hospital Wing, Cedric had offered to visit Hogsmeade with me, and on the way there— suggested that he and Cho were done because he was interested in me and wanted to get to know me more.

We had been standing outside, a little far off from Hogsmeade's entrance, so I clipped the front of my robes to protect myself from December's frosty air before stepping out. 

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. 

The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost.

The cold wind was nipping at my face as I followed the path that students took to get to Hogsmeade.

My eyes searched for anything that resembled a piece of parchment within the blanket of snow— and immediately noticed a bouquet of Poinsettias floating in mid-air, conjured by Cedric and undoubtedly grown by him in the school's greenhouse.

I smiled warmly as I grabbed the bouquet.  Tied to it was a piece of parchment which I read as I headed back towards the comfort of the castle.

It's true, our first kiss was overdue. 

But after this night, I made sure to kiss you so much that both of our lips turned blue. 

In this place, you breathed life into my lungs— 

I can't wait to see what is to come. 

This one was tricky because I wasn't exactly sure where the Room of Requirements was, but I did know that it was somewhere on the seventh floor, so I went up the marbled staircases and began roaming the corridors vigilantly.

Inside the classrooms, everyone was still in their lessons— but the whole scavenger hunt took me about forty minutes, so I figured I had a few minutes left until the bell rang for dinner.

"C'mon," I muttered impatiently to myself as I ran my hand against the wall like an old, blind lady— praying that a doorway would appear for me just like it did the night of the party.

It was when I got to the hallway with the Troll Tapestry opposite of a blank, stretch of wall between a window and a man-sized vase where a massive entryway started to reveal itself and I stopped, enthralled as it expanded.

I quickly pulled the bronze handle to the door, and once I walked in— what was once a massive party room had transformed into a smaller room with thousands of burning candles lighting it up warmly.

There were all sorts of different types of exotic flowers covering every crevice between the flickering candles except for the center of the room where a small table was set up for two and Cedric was standing right beside it.

My stomach gave a weird lurch when I saw him, as though I had missed a step going down some stairs.

His pearly greys widened, and he seemed a little nervous, though I couldn't tell too much because my eyes were staring to brim with tears. 

"Why are you crying, love?" Cedric cooed, grinning affectionately as he pulled me into a tight hug.

"This is just so beautiful," I laughed and immediately wrapped my arms around him, cradling my head on his shoulder. 

I had longed to hug him.

"Will you go to Yule Ball with me?" Cedric murmured into my hair, sounding a little shaky— and I pulled away so he could see me nod eagerly since I didn't trust my voice right then.

He let out a breathy laugh of relief, his eyes glinting with the candlelight that danced around us and my gaze dropped down to his full lips which were just a heartbeat away.

As if reading my mind, his lips soon met mine and it felt as if my heart had burst into a blazing fire. 

The kiss was short and sweet, yet it held so much intensity and emotion that it rattled me.

Cedric proceeded to smooch my entire face dotingly before turning around to pull my chair out for me to sit.

I did a little curtsy before taking a seat, making Cedric chuckle brightly.

The bouquet of Poinsettias that had held one of the riddles was placed at the center of the table as Cedric fetched a bottle of champagne from his bag.

I sat amazed as I admired the plethora of flowers and candles surrounding us. 

It was as if we had stepped inside a scene of a romantic movie.

In front of me, the table was brimming with an assortment of fruits, cheeses, and two full plates of what seemed to be chicken marsala served on top of little ridges of creamy pasta, which was definitely fancier than anything the Great Hall had ever provided for dinner.

The champagne bottle Cedric was working on had popped right then and we both cheered as the bubbly, golden liquid started overflowing from the bottle.

Ced swooped to grab our champagne flutes from the table and began to fill them up generously.

"Don't tell Hermione, but the House-Elves helped me put this together," Cedric admitted sheepishly as he took the seat across from mine.

"My lips are sealed, Diggory." I teased, smiling at him tenderly as we raised our glasses to each other and drank the sweet, fizzy champagne together.

"This is really good," I complimented, licking my lips as I continued to taste the rich, peachy flavor of the drink.

"Courtesy of the Hogwarts Kitchen," said Cedric, his eyes lingering on my lips. "In fact, the only thing I'm responsible for is the food and those flowers," he explained as he jutted his chin to the Poinsettias.

"The food?" I asked, my interest suddenly piqued by Cedric's culinary skills as I reached for my utensils.

"What? Do you think I'd let the House-Elves cook us dinner without any help? I'd lose my S.P.E.W badge." Cedric joked, grinning handsomely.

"You're right, it'd be deplorable." I giggled as I imagined Cedric with an apron on whilst cooking dinner with the elves.

I popped a forkful of the chicken marsala into my mouth and hummed in bliss at the savory taste— making Ced's smile grow broader.

"Good?" he asked excitedly, beginning to eat himself.

"So fucking delicious," I confirmed, taking another bite.

We ate in peaceful silence as the muffled sound of the bell rang outside. 

There was a low rumbling as the hallways filled with chattering students who were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

Cedric and I grinned at each other as we took sips of our drinks, thrilled to be tucked away by ourselves in our own private supper.

"You know, I almost thought you'd never ask me to the ball..." I told him breezily, crossing my legs underneath the table.

"How could you think I wasn't going to ask you?" Cedric asked, shaking his head incredulously as his lips pulled into a smirk. 

"Why did it take you so long?"  I challenged humorously, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm no poet, angel— each of those clues took about a week to make!" Cedric laughed softly.

"And they were adorable. You really put Robert Frost to shame." I teased sweetly, reaching forward to grab his hand.

Cedric's cheeks went rosy as he intertwined our fingers together, running his thumb over mine.

The commotion outside eventually ceased and it felt like we were the only ones in the world again. 

"I just didn't want to simply walk up to you and ask, you know? It felt too casual. And we're not casual." Cedric stated, his eyes boring into mine tenderly.

"No, we're not." I agreed, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

The small table that separated us became an inconvenience for me now that we had finished eating.

I wanted to crawl onto his lap.

"I bet you got many proposals," Ced smirked, evidently feeling all the same as I did because he rested his elbows on the table and inclined towards me.

"Yeah, some..." I understated as I recalled how Fred, Draco, and the Durmstrang boy had all asked me that same day.

Over the past weeks, I must've gotten about two dozen proposals to the ball, but I didn't want to dwell on that.

I was more interested in the proposals that Cedric must've gotten.

"And I heard you did, too." I retorted, unable to mask the edge in my voice as I remembered what Draco had told me earlier about the Veela girl from Beauxbatons. 

"I don't even remember because my mind has been entirely on you," Cedric murmured sincerely and cupped my face in his hands to smoosh my cheeks. "Besides, they only care about going to the ball with a Champion. I heard Harry, Krum, and Fleur have been getting bombarded with Yule Ball proposals, too."

"I'm sorry I don't put you up on a pedestal to idolize you like the rest." I joked, pouting my lips in ironic sorrow. 

"This Champion is the one that's doing all the idolization," Ced quipped as his hands moved from holding my face to nestle on the back of my head— leaning forward to kiss me.

The minutes slipped by us as we continued to talk some more in easy conversation.

It wasn't until the bell rang again, signaling the end of the day, that we finally began heading out— blending in with the other students as we left the heavenly room behind us. 

As we walked the corridors grinning wildly at each other while I clutched my bouquet of flowers, we made it known that we had coupled up for the ball.

Many girls sighed in endearment at the sight of us, others looked glum as they wished they were in my place— getting nuzzled by Cedric Diggory, their Hogwarts Champion.

But I didn't care much for the glorification that surrounded him.

I was just happy that I was going to share a very special night at the Yule Ball with my Ced.

"Fairy lights," I announced brightly to the Fat Lady once Cedric had dropped me off at Gryffindor Towers.

"Yes, indeed, dear!" she trilled, straightening her new tinsel hair band as she swung forward to admit me.

Once entering the Common Room, it was to my surprise that I saw Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Harry and Ginny were sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be low, soothing voices.

"What's up?" I asked as I joined them on the couch.

Ron looked up at me with a sort of blind horror on his face that only made me more concerned.

"He, er...  just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," Ginny explained and looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.

"You did what?" I asked Ron in astonishment.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped. "What was I playing at? There were people all around... I've gone mad— everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the Entrance Hall, and she was standing there talking to Roger Davies... and it sort of came over me, and I asked her!"

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. 

He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then, I dunno... I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part Veela," I reminded him, "her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault. I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the Charm for Roger and got affected by it."

Ron kept blubbering, evidently mortified and I turned to Harry.

"And you? Did you get a date?"

"I asked Cho... just now," Harry said timidly.

Ginny suddenly stopped smiling.

"And?" I egged him on.

Harry smiled at me and nodded and I grinned back, but we didn't say anything more in respect of Ron's despair.

"This is mad!" said Ron furiously. "I'm the only one left who hasn't got anyone. I mean, even Hermione's got a date!" 

"What?" I asked him, completely distracted by this startling news.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "Neville told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice— helping him out with work and stuff, but when he asked her, she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville... I mean, who would?"

"Don't laugh!" snapped Ginny, inexplicably annoyed. 

Just then, Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole with a pile of books in her hands.

"Why weren't you all at dinner?" she asked, coming over to join us.

"(Y/N) was with Cedric, he finally asked her to the ball— and Ron just got turned down by Fleur Delacour," said Ginny and shut Ron up.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" sniffed Hermione loftily, not forgetting his insolent comment earlier. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

"Hermione. Do you have a date for the ball?" I asked and we all fell silent as her face flushed.

"I'll tell you later," she murmured and I had to stop myself from jumping up and down from excitement for her.

"No! Tell us now!" protested Ron.

"For what? For you to make fun of me? No, thank you. Now if you don't mind, I am going to bed." Hermione said curtly and stormed upstairs soon after.

"She's lying," stated Ron flatly, rolling his eyes.

"She's not," muttered Ginny quietly.

"Who is it then?" insisted Ron sharply.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," replied Ginny.

"Riiight," sneered Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Things would’ve been much more simpler if Ginny would’ve gone with Harry, since she still hasn’t got anybody, and I would’ve just—"

"I have somebody," interrupted Ginny, her face solemn."I'm going w-with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought...well..." She looked extremely miserable and I felt terribly bad for her, knowing about the crush she had on Harry ever since she told me during the Summer. "I think I'll go to bed," she said morosely and got up to walk up the girls' staircases with her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry.

"What's gotten into them?" he demanded, but Harry's attention was on Parvati who had just come in through the portrait hole. 

"Come here," he said to Ron and I watched as they stood up, walking straight up to Parvati and I overheard Harry ask her to go to the dance with Ron before she erupted into a fit of giggles. 

I left the Common Room to head upstairs to my dorm with a big smile on my face.

After my nightly routine, I found Ginny and Hermione waiting up on me so I could tell them all about Cedric's proposal.

I showed them all the parchments Cedric made for the scavenger hunt and swooned while explaining the stories behind them.

They expressed their admiration when I told them about the Room of Requirements— sitting on the edge of the bed as I explained every intricate detail from the food to the candles and the flowers.

After I was finished, I turned my attention toward Hermione.

"'Okay, your turn. Now that the boys aren't around... who are you going to the ball with and why didn't you tell me you got asked?" 

I watched her cheeks turn bright pink as Ginny smirked knowingly beside her.

"Viktor Krum," she finally whispered after a prolonged silence.

"WHAT!?" I all but yelled as she shushed me but I ignored her as I hugged her frantically.

"I KNEW IT! I saw the way you two were staring at each other! I knew it! Tell me everything!"

"He honestly took me by surprise! We spent a lot of time at the library— separately, of course, and one day he just walked up to my table and asked me. He said he liked that I wasn't babbling over him like the other girls." 

I squealed and hugged her again tightly, tipping us over as we fell onto her mattress. 

"Oh, I'm so happy for you 'Mione!" 

"And I'm so happy for you!" Hermione beamed as we sat up again. "But I am going to need help getting myself together for the ball. Gods, what are we going to wear?"

"Let's go to Hogsmeade soon! Find some dresses, maybe get some drinks. Make a day out of it?" Ginny suggested and we all agreed enthusiastically before tucking ourselves into bed.

༻✦༺

December 16th, 1994

Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying around everywhere, and I didn't know whether to believe half of them.

For instance, one was that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta— which was hard to believe unless our Headmaster wanted to get us shit-faced.

It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters to perform.

Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were I didn't know, except for the fact that Fred and George had requested me to play them for the Gryffindor Quidditch party last year. 

I deduced from the wild excitement of my peers who had grown up listening to them that they were a very famous musical group. 

It was the morning before the day of the Yule Ball and Hermione, Ginny and I got up early to visit Hogsmeade.

We skipped all the way to the village with our arms linked, thrilled to finally be able to pick our dresses.

Hogsmeade was swarmed with students in our same predicament— having left attire shopping for the very last minute due to end-of-semester exams.

In light of the Yule Ball, Gladrags Wizardwear was selling gowns and dress robes of many different colors and materials for all the frantic students, and the small store was exploding with customers like never before. 

I was so distressed with being able to find the perfect gown, and once we got to Gladrags, my anxiety piqued when I saw the numerous girls scouring the room for dresses.

Ginny, Hermione, and I had stopped all conversation as we entered a state of deep focus as we skimmed the racks for ball gowns. 

We draped as many gowns as we could over our arms and entered the fitting room once our arms ached, not being able to physically hold any more.

Ginny, who only picked options from the sales section, tried on the most grisly dresses I've ever seen— most of which were of moldy brown colors with some occasional rusty reds. 

We'd all step out of the dressing room after trying on a new gown and to my horror, Ginny was wearing a bright orange dress that clashed extravagantly with her hair. 

Hermione and I thought it was a joke, at first, but then Ginny began to seriously consider getting the dress so we had to talk her out of it and steered her toward buying a pastel dress that was by far the best of the bunch.

The dress had pale green lace frills on the neckline and a matching pastel-green, floor-length poofy skirt. There were three adorable red stars down the center that contrasted boldly with the baby-pink material that the bodice of the dress was made of.

Ginny didn't seem too convinced when Hermione and I encouraged her to get it— but when I saw her eyeing a turquoise dress and offered to get it for her, she shook her head sternly and refused to hear another word.

If you can rely on the Weasleys for anything, it would be their pride.

Hermione had gathered all her savings and was picking some good options, but was struggling to figure out which style suit her best.

She had come out of the dressing room wearing a bohemian-styled beige dress, and the next round she wore a racy hot-pink dress— which earned wolf-whistles from Ginny and I, causing her to duck back into the dressing room as quickly as she came out of it.

Eventually, she ended up trying on a satiny, babydoll-pink gown that had layers of frills from the waistline down that became darker shades of plum and mulberry.

We knew that the dress was the winner at the first glance. 

Hermione looked gorgeous.

As for myself, it all came down to three distinct dresses— the first was emerald with a luxurious, satiny feel. It had a plunging neckline and a column-cut silhouette. 

The next one was a strapless, golden dress. So gold, it resembled a Snitch. I loved how the dress fit me and didn't even mind the sequins that it was made out of— but it did have an A-line silhouette with a long train for a hemline which made it difficult to move around in. Nevertheless, dance in.

The last dress was a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder, dark-red gown. 

It was of similar, rich-satin material as the emerald-green dress— but it had delicate draping detailing on the straps and the neckline, altering into a corset design around the waist.

The dress fell into a floor-length hemline, with a slit cut elegantly yet provocatively on the left side, to show some leg. 

When I tried it on for the first time, it fit like a glove. 

As if it were made just for me. 

Its trumpet-cut silhouette clung to my curves gracefully, yet gave me enough room to dance in. 

This was important because the past few weeks, the Champions and their dates had been practicing the opening dance number and there were so many steps to remember, I didn't want to worry about falling flat on my face on top of it. 

So even though it was probably the most expensive dress in the boutique and the most I've ever spent on anything in the Wizarding World yet— I decided on the wine-red dress.

Once our ball gowns were chosen, the girls and I went to the front of the shop to look at the accessories.

Hermione found pink-flower earrings in a similar color as her dress and paired them with two-inch magenta heels. 

Curiously enough, Ginny found a ribbon choker in the same pastel shade as her dress with a little, antique pendant on it. 

And to adorn my new dress, I bought a sparkly, golden chandelier necklace and matching stiletto five-inch heels.

We paid our dues and took our large shopping bags over to Honeydukes for some spiked pints of hot Butterbeers to warm us up.

"My dress is so ghastly!" Ginny huffed as she took a deep sip of her drink. "I just hope that whatever Neville wears doesn't look horrible with these hideous colors."

"Your dress isn't ghastly, Ginny— it's adorable. But I still think you should've let me buy you that green dress back at the shop." 

Ginny waved me off dismissively before diving back to her Butterbeer.

Hermione was wearing a worried smile, her eyebrows knitted together as we stared at Ginny who continued to drink earnestly.

"Drowning any sorrows?" Hermione asked once Ginny had downed her cup.

"As a matter of fact, I am." Ginny replied curtly, licking foam off her lip, "Tell me something— why didn't it occur to me to ask Harry to the ball? It's fucking nineteen-ninety-four and I just decided to sit pretty and wait for the off-chance of him to ask? What is wrong with me!" she moaned, grabbing a floating pitcher from midair and helping herself to more of the sweet drink.

"Well... I did tell you." Hermione said in a braggart tone which earned a glare for Ginny.

"How did you end up with Neville anyhow, Gin?" I asked, blowing steam off my Butterbeer before taking a sip.

"Oh... he just seemed so eager to go to the ball. I saw him get rejected twice, including by you," she said staring pointedly at Hermione, who shrunk in her seat, "so when he asked me, I don't know... I figured he didn't dance so bad at the rehearsal, so I accepted." Ginny shrugged. "But never in Merlin's stars did I ever imagine it to even be a possibility that I could go with Harry until my idiot of a brother mentioned it last minute. Ugh! I feel like I lost a big opportunity."

"Ginny..." I began, running my fingers through her long hair. "Harry is a stupid, little boy who hasn't got the slightest clue that you're into him. You have to tell him! If he knew, I just know he would be head over heels for you."

"That's not true, (Y/N)," Ginny quabbled, beginning to slur her words.

"Yes, it is, Gin."

"No. That's not true, and you know it. You know how much he likes Cho."

She got me there.

During the Champions dance rehearsal, Harry had become the clumsiest I've ever seen him around Cho.

She would giggle and bat her lashes at him and in turn, make him fumble his step and blubber like an idiot. 

It would've impressed me in any other circumstance, but it was quite pitiful to see. Besides, I had retreated back to not feeling too fond of Cho ever since I'd caught her glaring at Cedric and me as we rehearsed our dance.

"See." Ginny pointed at me with a lazy finger when I remained silent, and then huffed in defeat.

Hermione and I frowned at her dolefully but didn't press on the matter any further.

We got another round of pints and started planning what we were going to do with our hair and makeup in preparation for the ball tomorrow.

We were about to head into our third cup of Butterbeers when Hermione made us jump in our seats when she suddenly gasped, her brown eyes on the bar's dusty old clock.

"Gods, look at the time! I have to get back to the library!" 

"The library?" Ginny and I asked, synchronously puzzled.

"Yes, it's going to close in an hour and I need to check out my books for the next semester to get ahead on coursework before the break!" 

"Hermione," I moaned, rolling my eyes— the alcohol loosening me up enough that I felt like I could speak my mind. "You have to take a break."

"A break!" Hermione scoffed in response.

"I'm serious, 'Mione. When was the last time you had a break? That is exactly what you need right now. Just worry about the dance, and about all the fun you're going to have with Viktor tomorrow, and we'll find another day to visit the library before the next semester starts. We have more than enough time."

Hermione abruptly took me aback when I saw her eyes welling up with tears.

"I just... feel like academics is the only thing I'm good at. You saw how clueless I am when it comes to things like the ball! I mean, I tried to prepare by checking out many books about the past Yule Balls but I still feel like a total halfwit when it comes to anything other than school."

"Hermione, that's not true." Ginny insisted.

 "That's all people come to me for!"

"You're the smartest person I ever met, it's true— but there are so many other great qualities about you!" I assuaged her. "You're kind. The best friend we could ever ask for. Brave. And you're fucking gorgeous. Viktor didn't ask you to the ball became of your ability to absorb a humongous book. It might've drawn him in, but I guarantee that there is so much more to you too, hon." 

"Thank you, (Y/N)..." Hermione sniffed.

"Don't even mention it," I said and hugged my friend tightly.

I suspected the Butterbeers were to blame for turning us all into sentimental disasters, but my little speech didn't manage to change Hermione's mind so we rushed back to the castle to get to the library with the exception of Ginny, who craved her bed and retreated for Gryffindor Towers to put our dresses away safely.

When we got to the library, I was surprised to see many students lounging around the room and talking freely— carefree to the otherwise strict library rules against loitering and speaking in an audible tone.

This flexibility was most likely due to the excitement towards the end of the semester and the ball that was the following evening.

Madame Pince seemed to have given up on instilling any rules because she was just simply staring at all the students with disdain when we got there.   

I followed Hermione as she proceeded to grab her books for the next semester like she said she would, but I noticed her lingering by a bookshelf that I soon realized was right behind where Viktor Krum was reading about ships at his usual table.

Hermione had a book open in her hands as a prop as her brown eyes peered up at Krum through the gaps of the bookshelf.

I thought it was fucking adorable.

"Go on," I mumbled and nudged her forward. 

Her eyes went wide when she realized I had caught her staring but I watched as the Butterbeer seemed to have given her liquid courage because she nodded confidently before taking her stack of books over to Viktor, courageously sat in front of him and immediately sparked a conversation.

I grinned as I watched them, leaning against the bookshelf as I thought about how good they looked together.

I was about to turn around to head to the Common Room when my skin started tingling and I felt as if someone's eyes were on me.

I whirled around, scanning the room cautiously, and found my gorgeous, brunette boy sitting in an armchair joined by his friends— his lingering, stormy eyes watching me intently.

I smirked at him, getting instant Deja Vu from back in the day when we were strangers and used to admire each other from across the room.

My heart swelled as the nostalgia washed over me, a small lump growing in my throat.

One of Cedric's friends patted him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention, but Ced couldn't take his eyes off me.

An idea came to mind and I strode away right after giving him a quick wink— briefly seeing him stand up to follow me before I disappeared over to the same aisle I was at earlier for his Scavenger Hunt— the one in which we had first met.

I ran my hands over the spine of the books, smirking as I felt someone approach behind me.

"Hello," Cedric mumbled into my ear, his big hands wrapping around my waist to turn me around so I could face him.

"Hi," I giggled softly, my heart accelerating in my chest as he brushed his lips up my neck, nipping at the skin under my ear softly. The light touch sent shivers through my nerves, shivers that made my whole body tremble.

"It's lovely to meet you, (Y/N). I'm Cedric. I've seen you here quite a bit." Cedric murmured lowly, making my smile broaden as I realized he was recounting the very first words he ever spoke to me.

"Mm, that's right. I like to do my coursework here with my friend— it's quiet." I played along, running my hands up his chest and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.

Right above our heads was a floating candle where a branch of mistletoe began to bloom abruptly, but we didn't need it there for us to dive into each other.

Ced pulled me up by my waist and onto my tiptoes as his parted lips met mine.

The space around us had evaporated as it usually did whenever his lips were on me. Everything went strangely quiet, like the moment of brief silence between lightning and thunder, and the moment I tasted his lips, I realize that I could never have enough of him. 

I felt his hands roam everywhere up my back and over my arms and suddenly he was kissing me harder, deeper, with a fervent, desperate need that I've never known before.

I clung to him since he felt like the only solid thing in a vertiginous world. His insistent mouth was parting my trembling lips, evoking from me sensations I had never known I was capable of feeling.

And even though my lips had never touched any other, I felt so sure that he was the single greatest kisser in all of the world.

Cedric and I were pressed against one another, and still ached to be even closer— he stepped forward and pinned me against the bookcase behind me, making it rattle boisterously. 

"Excuse me!" Madame Pince's shrill voice called out and we sighed into the kiss, pulling away from each other knowing we got caught. "The library is no place for this wretchedness! This is preposterous!" Our librarian scolded Cedric and I, fuming as she wagged an angry finger at us.

Cedric was staring down at the floor in what seemed to be shame as we got reprimanded, when suddenly he took my hand in his and pulled me past Madame Pince— steering me toward the exit of the library.

We sprinted, laughing brightly as we heard most of the Hogwarts Library visitors applauding and cheering us on behind us.

"Absolutely disgraceful! Just vile behaviour! TEN POINTS FROM BOTH OF YOUR HOUSES!" continued Madame Pince but we were already out in the hallway, giggling madly as we ran down the empty corridors— still in shock for getting in trouble.

We slowed down to a walk as we rounded the corner, and I watched with a smirk on my face as Cedric checked our surroundings, assuring that we were all alone before he stepped forward to push me flush against the wall and kissed me again— but this kiss was the kind that could crack open the sky. It stole my breath and somehow gave it back. It showed me that any other kiss I could ever had had in my life would’ve been wrong.

His hands wandered up my torso and I went tense as he brushed my breast but they didn't stop there, to my disappointment— as he cupped my jaw and pressing himself into me.

We moaned against each other's lips and when hearing his low groan, it sent a wildfire of scorching flames racing through my body. I pressed my thighs together instinctively, needy to hear him again.

We began making out like crazy.

Like our lives somehow dependedon it. 

His tongue slips inside my mouth, gentle but demanding, and it's unlike anything I've ever felt, and I suddenly understand why kissing is described as melting because every square inch of my body dissolves into his.

My fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer.

My veins throb and my heart explodes.

I have never wanted anyone like this before. 

Ever.

He pushes me backward and we're making out in front of the portraits of clowns with holding red balloons and old men playing with chess sets and tourists with their laminated maps but I don't care, I don't care about any of that. 

All I want is Cedric.

His weight on top of mine is remarkable. I feel him, all of him—pressed against me, and I inhale the scent of his shaving cream, his cologne, and that extra scent that's just…him.

The most mouth-watering scent I could ever imagine.

His lips taste like honey, his hands are everywhere, and it doesn't matter that his mouth is already on top of mine, I want him closer, closer, closer.

My hands roamed too, from his neck, down his chest, up his back, in his hair.

When I raked my fingers in his chestnut locks and pulled lightly, another low groan emitted from him which made my knees buckle and I felt like I had won the lottery.

His hand shifted from cupping my jaw as he dropped it so it wrapped loosely around my throat, much like the necklace I had tried on at the store earlier.

Not being able to help myself anymore, I ground down onto him just like I did the other night but my head went hazy when he didn't stop me.

In fact, he brought my leg higher up his hip— his fingertips running on the bare skin of my thigh as he rutted the strain in his pants down on me and we both moaned at the delicious friction.

It excited me to be this intimate with him.

To feel him pulsing against me.

He was so real and he was mine.

Cedric’s hand squeezed the skin of my thigh as I continued to pivot my hips, grounding my centre to his.

"Fuck, can I touch you?" Ced panted so softly into my lips that I could've mistaken it for a breath.

I instantly nodded, anticipating more of his touch as I continued to kiss him, tugging his bottom lip softly with my teeth but suddenly Cedric froze.

No, no, no, no.

"Ced?" I asked meekly as his hands moved from my thighs, setting me on the ground gently as he grabbed my hands in his.

I peered up at him curiously, both of our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath.

"I'm sorry," he said morosely, "I'm losing control— I tend to do that around you," he chuckles sheepishly. 

"You're not the only one..." I replied gingerly, stepping forward to pepper kisses from his ear down his throat which made him hum lowly, his pretty eyes fluttering shut. 

"You got anything planned for tomorrow after the dance?" Ced asked, his voice strained and I pulled away inquisitively.

"I think there's going to be an after-party, but I wasn't really planning on going... Did you have anything in mind?" I asked, my voice hopeful. 

"Maybe... we can spend some time together? Just you and I... after the ball?" Ced asked suggestively, kissing my cheek and trialing his kisses down my neck.

My tummy fluttered excitedly at his proposal.

"I'd love that," I replied, grinning as my heart somersaulted up to my throat.

"See you tomorrow, darling." Ced beamed and leaned down to peck my lips before we departed for a night's sleep prior to what I felt would be the greatest day of our lives.

✩ next chapter: the yule ball ✩

[dec4podcast]

Our leading contributor, Gary Wells, joins us to explore two tumultuous decades in the lives of the Beach Boys, through the lens of Malcolm Leo’s 1985 BAFTA nominated biographical documentary, The Beach Boys: An American Band.

We learn about some of the key people on both sides of the camera, and of Malcolm Leo’s established method of sourcing a wide variety of music and interview clips (long before the easy accessibility of digital archives) to create an intimate, first-person narrative.

The Beach Boys: An American Band is a fan’s movie; if you already love the Beach Boys, you’ll love them even more after immersing yourself in this documentary. If you’re just starting out on a journey of discovery learning about the Beach Boys and their impact on 20th century music and culture, this is a wholly enjoyable place to begin. But, it’s worth noting that it was far from the complete story even then, and there have been 40 more years of eventful Beach Boys history since.

Image credit: Malcolm Leo's official site

The evolving story is told through a compilation of music and interview clips by the Beach Boys themselves, including Brian, who is candid about his drug and mental health issues.

This aspect of Beach Boys history impacted the final edit, as Malcolm Leo explained in a 2003 interview with Nat Segaloff;

"…I thought I had (right of final cut) in writing…There was something they asked me to take out: Brian Wilson was very open about his personal dilemma with drugs and wanted the whole story to be told straight, without pulling any punches. There was a line when he said, “I was smoking hash in the studio and so were the boys,” and one of the other Beach Boys said, “You gotta take out ‘so were the boys.'” And I did…"

We hear from Brian’s high school music teacher (Fred Morgan), who confesses to giving Surfin’ an F when submitted by Brian as a school assignment, but acknowledges that the commercial release made a million dollars. There was an interesting postscript to this in 2018, when Brian returned to Hawthorne High and the mark was upgraded to an A by school principal, Vanessa Landesfeind.

We follow the Beach Boys’ career from early performances of signature hits and their creative growth well beyond car and surf themed party music. We experience close-up their professional slumps and triumphs, and personal crises, and their redemption and acceptance as ‘America’s Band’, a staple of stadium shows and July Fourth celebration concerts in front of huge audiences.

As we point out in the podcast, The Beach Boys: An American Band is a thoroughly enjoyable and enlightening movie, and a great fan experience. If you want to see the best in the Beach Boys, professionally and personally, it’s a perfect way to do it; the evident love and affection between the brothers is endlessly endearing. However, it’s far from the whole story; the true extent of family patriarch Murry Wilson’s behaviour, described by author Timothy White as part of a family (male line) ‘legacy of pain’, is left alone, and there is no mention of Charles Manson and his deeply troubling incursion into the professional and personal lives of the group through Dennis Wilson. Gary argues that some editorial decisions have to be made, and venturing into these highly complex and darker areas would have resulted in a very different movie. Did Malcolm Leo achieve his stated ambition of not creating a ‘puff piece’? I think our conclusion on that was 'yes and no'.

As we come to the end of The Beach Boys: An American Band, and the early 1980s, Gary draws our attention to this comment from a rejuvenated Brian Wilson, speaking at a reception leading up to the Beach Boys headlining what promised to be the biggest ever Fourth of July concert in Washington, with over 500 000 people expected to attend;

“…The family that sings together stays together…we love each other…It’s a time where we need to be strong, and face up to our responsibilities and come through, I mean, we started out as little babies, and we grew up into men, you know, and that’s a dramatic story, it’s the story of the Beach Boys, it’s a very dramatic story…I foresee a good future for us, with a lotta good happy thoughts, and a lotta good times…”

There's a little more at our podcast website, with some links to further reading, viewing and listening;

Special thanks to Gary Wells, and to all our readers and listeners.

[loopscereal]

Day 6: Rivals, First time meeting

OK!!!! With one minute to midnight to spare (for me) jajhaa

OK. Rivals. They are both inherently rival bands yes, but them two, Meg and Fred specifically, i can see as true rivals. The truly are a match for each-other musical abilities and would fuel one another to one-up the other, grow their talents due to being evenly matched with someone else. The two biggest talents of the entire school. First time meeting. I feel like they would meet at a local concert or the muelles if you want a specific fnafhs location. I feel like, and have had the headcanon, that the toys go to local shows/concerts, to study! They go out an study musicians who have "made it". Musicians who have found their audience, their sound, their methods all that. I feel like, they take the band thing very seriously, Mangle especially. So they go out and study, record video take tones of things like audience reception, techniques, how the band-mates interact and work together, the lyrics, the melody. Taking note and absorbing as much as they can to learn and become better as a band. They try and see a wide array of different bands/genres to try new things, to see if they can find something to apply to THEIR worth ethic and habits even the most unlikely of places. OK the toys go and study at local shows, cause they take this music stuff way too seriously for their own good. Fred, we already know he sneaks out to go out and sing his heart out. That gives them a place to meet properly for the first time, though, Fred would have known about the toys before hand. He should have already run into Joy himself when he took over the first time, and before that, he technically should've been watching when the Toys tried to put the animations in their place with Joys singing and Bons v Bonnie guitar battle and whatnot. He should have heard/seen Joy step up and say that the Animatronics don't deserve to have Meg waste their voice on them, and that she will handle it instead and sing.

they don't deserve Meg to "waste their voice on them." they dont deserve the best they have. I dont think Fred would let that go OR let it slide. He think he's worth and capable of meeting them at their best, he thinks he can and should go up against their best. so! he challanges Mangle to a duet the second he get the chance. He wants to see what theyve got, what was so good about them that they had to preserve their voice from people "undeserving" of hearing them. He wants to see if they live up to that lil comment that he is 100% blowing up out of proportion. He challanges The Toys, but specifcally Meg to a music/singing battle to see if hes really that good. Meg is very much NOT happy about it, he feels as though his band and he himself has taken a hit to their egos. The guitar battle was a tie at BEST and that still Meg awfully shaken and uncomofrtable, getting matched muscially in any way. Their ego is bruised. So seeing this attitude from a member of the same band makes them view Fred as incredibly arrogant. Like this band of nobodies think they're all that and can skip all the work youre supposed to do as a band to get anywhere and just topple the established groups so easily. Megs gonna take up that challange, out of frustration and anger, out of wanting to mend his own ego, oout of wanting to put this stupid band in his place as she feels they had failed to. If he had done this from the beginning maybe he wouldnt be feeling so uncertain and sour and bruised. they of course, are a match for eachothers talents, and neither of them want to admit that theyve been match in any way and leave that battle acting as if they had one that, they had some fun in the moment cause yeah they love singing, it really is their passion, but neither of them truly feel like they won and thats gonna eat away at them. Theyve both alwyas been the best, completely unrivaled, until recently. and it is uncomofortable, but absolutly awakening a competitive nature they both have within

Tldr i think they’re both crazy and ahould explode into a billion peices

theyres probably a better way to ohase all of this but i am not a writer in the slightest… i cannot soeak nicely im sorry. just know im crazy that is all

+ i think ita funny that 3 of us did meg ships with the rivals prompt. this characyers can fit so much antagonism lol

[harrisonarchive]

Footage as featured in the special edition of Living In The Material World and the George Harrison Guitar Collection app — George playing Fred Astaire’s “Shine On Your Shoes” on the ukulele.

“The main thing was he was always around the house, playing his ukulele and smiling. I’d come home from school and he’d be standing in the doorway playing his uke.” - Dhani Harrison, Los Angeles Times, November 2002 “If I began to sing a song — any song — he would accompany and encourage me. If I played three chords on the uke (compulsory instrument in our home), he would be my band.” - Olivia Harrison, Harrison (2002) “[George] had a lot of patience and he had time for people. If somebody truly wanted to know something, whether it was a guitar chord or something from the Vedas or how you prune a tree, if you were really curious, he had an endless amount of time. He actually sat with my mother and showed her how to play one chord on a ukulele so she could play along with him. He wanted everybody to have fun and join in. He was a Pisces; I think he liked the whole school going along with him.” - Olivia Harrison, Filter, Fall 2011 (x)