#dungbombs

Thankfully, you’d managed to hide from Madame Pince when she’d cleared the students out this evening and had the last hour to finish your essay in peace. It was eleven before you finally switched the lamp off and started stacking your books together .

You leaned back and stretched, bringing some life back into your limbs, then flung your bag over your shoulder, resenting that you had volunteered to tutor tomorrow - forcing you to get your paper done tonight. Nothing like spending a Saturday night on homework. There was nothing particularly wrong with doing homework, considering you loved to learn, but you still wanted to relax every now and then.

With a small sigh, you trudged to the front of the library, already imagining your soft bed and the back of your eyelids waiting on you.

Glancing both ways for any signs of adults or felines before you turned the next corner, you slipped down the corridor. How some people snuck around the castle at all hours was beyond you. The thought of getting in trouble was enough to keep you in the common room by curfew for the most part, only straying when it came to course work. And you wouldn’t have even chanced it tonight if it weren’t for Madame Prince's demand that the potion books you were using not be taken out of the library.

You were halfway back to the dorm when the eerie sound of Peeve’s mischievous giggle echoed down the hall. Your heart dropped into your stomach with dread. There was no way you could get past Peeves without alerting Filch, or worse, McGonagall. Whirling around, you backtracked the way you’d come, set on taking the long way when you collided with something hard and were knocked backward onto the hard stone.

“Ow.” You winced at the pain radiating through your backside, still oblivious to your surroundings.

Two hands tucked under your arms and lifted you back to your feet. ““Merlin, I’m sorry! I didn’t expect to meet anyone.”

Brushing the dust off your sweater, you glanced up to meet big brown eyes watching you, a mop of bright red hair on top of their head. Of course a Weasley would be out causing trouble on a Saturday evening.

“Fred, what are you doing here?” you hissed. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve got to go. Peeves is heading straight for us.” You pushed against his chest, ignoring the tensed plaine of muscles, trying to escape from the annoying poltergeist, but his body stayed fixed in place.

“We can’t go that way, I just set off a dungbomb. Filch and Mrs. Norris will probably be right on my tail.” Now you could make out the sound of Filch muttering obscenities and Mrs. Norris yowling.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t get caught, Weasley! I’m not going to waste an evening in detention because you can’t follow the rules.”

“I’m not the only one out of bed after hours, need I remind you. What exactly are

doing out of bed?” He whispered angrily, a scowl on his face. This was the first time you’d spoken to the boy and it clearly wasn’t going well.

“I was in the library working on my potions essay.” You snapped at his accusatory tone.

“Blimey, you were working on homework?! It’s the weekend! That’s what you do in your spare time?”

All you could do was whimper in response, absolute panic setting in. You had never been in trouble and you didn’t want to break that record now. Frowning, he grabbed your hand and started running toward the direction Peeves was in. “What about Peeves-”

“Just trust me, okay.”

You clamped your mouth shut and ran after Fred, having to take two steps just to meet his long stride. The heavy fall of your footsteps against the stone seemed quiet compared to the thumping in your chest the closer you were to Peeves, you’d just have to turn the corner and you may just run right through him. You gulped, preparing to grovel at McGonagall’s feet, when Fred yanked you behind a statue revealing a passage way before slipping in behind you.

Your back thudded against the cool stone wall, Fred leaned his arm against the wall next to your head, the length of his body pressed against yours to hide you in the shadows, on instinct, your hands balled into fists and rested against his chest. Both of you took deep breaths, trying to get your breath back quietly, his breath brushed against your face and the smell of cool mint floated around you.

After a few moments, you started to speak, only to be cut off by Fred’s hand clamping over your mouth.

“Is someone here, my precious?” Filch’s jarring voice cut through the silence right outside the statue. “Maybe a nasty Weasley.”

Your eyes widened at Fred but he ignored your stare. The only recognition that he felt your gaze was his jaw clenching. Oh god, you were about to be caught and even worse, you’d been hiding with a Weasley twin. Maybe Filch would tell McGonagall that you set off the dungbomb. It’d be on your permanent record. You’d have detention for months.

“We’ll get them this time.” His voice was high-pitched, the sound of joy ringing out, “come out, little Weasley. I’ll only string you up by your toes in the courtyard.”

You gulped, your hands tightened on Fred’s shirt at the sound of Filch’s steps getting closer and closer. You were positive that he was only a step away from entering the hidden passage.

A crash down the hall distracted you from your thoughts.

Outside the statue, Filch squealed like a pig, “Peeves! You rotten scum. I’ll catch you this time.” And then the sound of his footsteps running down the corridor until they disappeared.

Fred held eye contact with you and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. You’d never realized how handsome he was. Being this close to him, you could see the deepness of his chocolate brown eyes had swirls of caramel in them, the way his jaw kept clenching with tension, the freckles speckled against his nose. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to think about anything other than the feeling of Fred’s heartbeat beneath your hands, how soft his lips looked, or how easy it would be to wrap your arms around his neck.

It had been eerily silent for a few minutes when you mumbled, “Fred,” your mouth still covered by his hand. Like he’d just remembered he was still holding you, he shook his head and dropped his hand back to his side.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“Your hand smells like a dungbomb.”

At this, Fred let out a breathy chuckle. “Right, that can happen to a lad now and again.”

“You might want to see a healer if it occurs more than three times a week.” You teased before glancing to the exit, missing the curious look Fred gave you. “Do you think it’s safe now? I really don’t want Mrs. Norris or Filch to come back.”

“That sounded like a suit of armor that Peeves dropped, Filch will be distracted by that for hours. We should be fine to get back to the dorms. Which house are you in?”

A frown flashed on your face before you recovered. “Um, Gryffindor.”

He cocked his head in surprise. You, however, weren’t surprised that he didn’t know you even if you knew exactly who he was. He was a year older than you, half of the popular duo and champion beater for the quidditch team, and you mostly stuck to yourself. It wasn’t often that someone other than the professors noticed you.

Giving him a loose shrug, you side-stepped to let him pass. You followed Fred as he slipped out from the statue and started leading you back to Gryffindor. You looked around to find you were still a few floors away to safety. It was silent between you two, your ears sharp for any sound of footsteps that may be coming to find you.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fred broke the silence. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye and nodded. “How did you know I was Fred?”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lip. “Isn’t it obvious? You look completely different than George.”

He gapped at you, “you don’t think we look alike?”

“No. Not at all.” Your face was blank but the longer he stared, the harder it was to keep in your smile.

Fred narrowed his eyes, “you’re taking the piss out of me, aren’t you?”

A giggle bubbled out of you and you couldn’t hold it back. “Of course you look alike, dork, you’re identical twins.”

“Well you’re very convincing. I almost doubted our resemblance for a minute.” He snorted, running his hand through his messy hair.

“Sorry, you just made it way too easy.” You said, laughing a little more until it fell silent again.

“So how’d you know?”

“You have different smiles, yours turns down just a bit at the corner like you have a secret. Your eyes are darker than his. George has a tiny bump on his nose. Both of you speak differently.” You shut your mouth quickly, realizing how creepy that could sound. “That sounded way more weird than I’d intended. It’s not like I’ve noticed you in particular or anything, you just tend to notice things when you’re by yourself. Which I am a lot. Not because I can’t make friends, it’s just that I like to read a lot and I don’t want to get bad grades or fail so I go to the library most days. But you and George can get pretty loud sometimes in the common room so I can’t help from hearing...”

He’d been unusually quiet since you started talking and you didn’t want to wait around for him to call you a freak. There was a breath of relief that you could stop rambling as you approached the Fat Lady. Fred gave her the password and she gave you a stern glare before reluctantly swinging open.

Scrambling through the painting, you dashed toward the stairs, ready to put this whole night to rest.

“Wait!”

Your foot hovered over the third step as Fred called after you. Grudgingly, you shifted to face him, still shorter than him on the second step.

“Yes, Fred?”

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble tonight...uh, actually, I don’t think I caught your name.”

You pursed your lips. “It’s alright, I shouldn’t have been out after hours anyways. Thanks for getting me back safely though. Besides, it was worth it to hear Mrs. Norris screeching like she’d been dunked in a bathtub.” Fred smiled at that. Turning back around, you kept walking to your dorm.

“Hey, you still didn’t tell me your name.”

Without stopping, you called over your shoulder, “Goodnight, Weasley.”

Why bother? By morning he’ll have forgotten the whole incident and be back to pulling pranks with George and Lee Jordan.

Fred stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs in shock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks had passed in a blur with exams looming over the school like the plague. Students everywhere were starting to freak out, the stench of panic settling in. Last Wednesday, Lucy Slitworm had passed out in Charms as Professor Flitwick had started the review of subjects. When she came too, she’d burst into tears and had to be sent to the nurse. Luckily, you’d managed to avoid that level of stress by practically living in the library.

You’d studied in the common room a few times, but the sound of Ron and Harry moaning that Hermione wasn’t helping them was more distracting than anything. You’d also found your eyes straying over to a certain red-head more than your books so you’d reluctantly rearranged your schedule to accommodate the walk to the library.

It was no shock that Fred had ignored your presence since that evening, although it did sting a bit to know that you had made that little of an impression on him when he’d made such an imprint on your mind.

More often than you’d like now, you found your mind wandering to Fred. You kept replaying the feeling of his hand in yours, of his breath on your skin, the curious look he’d given you when you’d teased him, or worse, the way it had felt so right with his body against yours.

Obviously, you’d noticed him before that night. It was hard not to when he and his brother were shouting over a game of exploding snap, or when he was teasing Ron for something, or even when he was flirting with the girls in the common room. After that night, you couldn’t help searching for the boy when you walked into the Great Hall, or wonder what prank he might be pulling.

The truth was, you’d missed every time he looked at you. You missed how he would scan any room he walked into, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. You missed when he’d asked George about you the very next morning and the surprise on his face when George actually knew your name. How thick headed could he have been to ignore you all these years?

Of course he hadn’t told George the story when he’d prodded. It was something that he’d wanted to keep to himself, the memory of that terrified look on your face at the possibility of getting in trouble, you leaning against the wall in front of him, the feeling of your soft breath on his chest.

From where he sat, it seemed like you hadn’t spared him one thought or look and it was killing him. How were you so utterly unphased by what had happened? That night had been a wakeup call for him, that for six years, he had missed out on getting to know this beautiful, playful, intelligent girl. Yet you hadn’t even wanted to tell him your name, you’d raced up the stairs to get away from him - everything pointed to the fact that you just didn’t seem interested in him. So why had you known who he was, down to the shape of his smile?

He’d racked his brain for a way to talk to you, something that didn’t make him seem desperate or ridiculous, but the days kept passing and he still hadn’t said one word to you. Every time he had taken a step in your direction or started to pass you a note in the common room, this overwhelming feeling of fear had stopped him. He’d never felt a fear like this. He was a Weasley for god sakes, nothing scared him or stopped him from taking a leap.

Except you.

On Saturday morning, a week after the incident, he finally relented that he might have to ask his twin for help. Most likely, George would have a plan immediately and he’d be kicking his own butt for not asking sooner.

He explained the whole situation to George, leaving out the detail of how your body felt so warm or that you fit perfectly against him. Then he’d spent a good twenty minutes chasing George around while George teased him mercilessly. After he’d gotten out a few rounds of “sitting in a tree”, Fred whalloped him on the head and they’d calmed down.

“Okay, what’s so special about this bird, Freddie? You’ve never had trouble talking to girls before.” George asked, settling down in his chair.

Fred stared out the window for a while before answering. “She knew who I was. Not just in the way that she knew that I was one of the twins. Not in the way that she had to really think about it. She took one look at me and knew that I was Fred.” George raised an eyebrow at this. “We don’t get that very often, never in fact. Bloody hell, even mum can’t tell us apart on a good day. People look at us and see what they want - two halves of a whole. I don’t mind, usually, I really don't. But something about her seeing me for me-”

“It makes you feel special. I get it.” George patted Fred’s knee once. “Let’s do some recon and figure out how to win you your girl.”

As soon as Harry came down from the dorm, George had asked to borrow back the Marauders map for a while, then they set off for Hogsmead to scheme.

For the next week, outside of Fred’s constant planning, George took his own liberties by running into you as often as possible. He was determined to see if you could really tell the twins apart or if it had been a coincidence.

“There you are! How have you been?” He’d asked you in some variation or another.

Never had George or Fred willingly said hello to you, and now it was becoming a daily occurrence. Each time, you’d looked at him with equal parts confusion and amusement. “I’m fine, George, and how are you?”

And each time, he’d give you an offended look and reply, “I’m not George, I’m Fred. Thought you were supposed to know me.”

“No, you’re George. Just as you were George yesterday and the day before.” You’d reply, a little more annoyed each time you had to say it. George would shrug and then turn tail in the other direction.

On Friday morning, George slipped into the seat next to you in the Great Hall. Your spoon was midair, full of oatmeal, when you stopped to look up at him. You raised an eyebrow when you saw he was smiling at you.

“Uh, good morning, George.”

His smile faded, a quizzical expression on his face, “you really can tell the difference between us, interesting.” Then he turned to get up, pausing when you grabbed his wrist and tugged him back down, a bit roughly.

“You don’t get to leave that easily. George, I’ve known you for six years. I know that you’re George. And I know that that was Fred up in the common room arguing with Ron about skiving snackboxes. I know that you’ve been the one saying hello to me every day, not Fred. The only thing I can’t figure out is why you’re trying to confuse me, especially when it’s clear it’s not going to work.

George didn’t speak, a grin spreading across his face the longer you talked. When you were done, you let out a small sigh and went back to your oatmeal, positive that he would get up and leave. He was quiet for a few more seconds before he snickered.

“Man, you really can talk once you get started, huh?” He stood up swiftly and leaned back over your shoulder. “See ya around, troublemaker.” Then he was gone before you could blink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you were still in the library cramming for the start of your exams on Monday. You’d begged Madame Pince for extra time and cushioned it with three weeks of volunteering to reshelf books for her to give you thirty additional minutes after closing.

You’d tried to focus on your workbooks but your mind kept wandering back to the strange interactions from George. He’d never really spoke to you before unless it was necessary, and what really confused you, was that Fred had seemed completely unaffected. It seemed that things had gone back to normal, you were invisible to Fred Weasley.

All too quickly, your extra time disappeared, and you were no further than you were when you started. The moment the clock hit thirty minutes past, Madame Pince was ushering you out of the library and slamming the doors behind you.

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way to the common room. As you rounded the corner, the stench of a dungbomb wafted to your nose and you instantly cringed. That was the scent of trouble that you wanted no part of. Spinning on a heel, you headed for the next closest route. Even though you’d had permission from Madam Pince to stay out late, Filch wasn’t one to care for acceptions.

You’d been walking for five minutes when the familiar smell of another dungbomb surrounded you. You stopped dead in your tracks, a frown growing on your face. The universe had to be playing some kind of cosmic joke on you.

With a huff, you turned down another hallway with the plan to go through a few of the classrooms that could get you to the other side of the castle. It wasn’t the most efficient but it would work in a pinch.

Tiptoeing out of the charms classroom, you rounded the corner and almost smacked into the fog of a dungbomb.

“You’ve got to be freakin kidding me?” You murmured angrily.

The sounds of Filch’s voice floated from behind you and your stomach jumped to your throat. You’d tried so hard for so long to avoid trouble and now it felt like it was following you. Letting out a terrified groan, you spun around and sprinted down the closest hallway, regardless of if it would get you back to the common room. The voices were getting closer and you were starting to really panic.

You felt like you were stuck in one of those bad dreams where you were running but you weren’t getting any farther. Filch’s voice was looming over you and you still had half the length of the hall to go.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and snagged you by the arm, dragging you behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. You struggled in the arms of your assailant, kicking and flailing to get away, then you opened your mouth to screech but a hand was covering your mouth quickly.

“Bloody hell, stop worming around, woman. You want him to catch us?” A voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You knew that voice. Instantly, you relaxed against his chest and his hand dropped from your mouth to your collarbone. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore how good he smelled and how natural it felt to be in his arms.

The puffs of Filch’s ragged breathing echoed into the passage and you instinctively pushed closer to Fred, his arms tightening around you as he moved you backwards deeper into the tunnel.

It felt like deja vu to be in this situation with Fred as you were waiting for Filch to discover you both at the scene of a crime. Maybe this was the only way you’d get to spend any time with him - when he was causing trouble and you were caught in the crossfire.

Your heart was racing, waiting for Filch or Mrs. Norris to leap around and shout ‘GOTCHA!’ but it never came. Instead, you heard a growl of frustration and Filch yell, “another one?! I’ll catch the little brat setting these off!” and then his shouts slowly fading.

A full minute passed before you let out the shaky breath you’d been holding. Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you, his thumb rubbing gently across the bare skin of your neck, and his chin was resting on the top of your head. Every time he took a breath, his chest pushed against your back and you relished in the feeling.

Abruptly, the realization of what just happened sunk in. Whirling around, you pushed Fred’s chest, his eyes bulging out with surprise at the sudden movement. “You scared me, Fred Weasley!”

“What, you wanted me to just let you get caught?” He snapped in astonishment.

“You could have at least warned me before snatching me mid-stride.”

“What would you have preferred? I stand at the entrance of a

passageway with a giant white flag. Might have given us away!”

“Well, why do you have to go around causing trouble in the first place? It’s absolutely ridiculous. I was doing just fine without you setting off four dungbombs around the castle.”

“Don’t yell at me, woman! I had to do something to get your attention.” Fred said a little harshly.

You stared at him, your brain struggling to comprehend what he’d said. “Wait, what?”

Fred scuffed his foot on the ground, “Nothing, just forget it. This whole thing was stupid.”

You stepped forward and put a hand on his bicep, “no, tell me.”

Fred sighed and watched you before stepping back into your space, towering over you so that you had to tilt your head to look at him. “I said, I had to do something to get your attention.”

“So you set off dungbombs so that I would get in trouble?” You whispered nervously.

“No, I had George set off dungbombs so that I could

you from getting in trouble.” His voice faded away at the end.

“And why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know...” Fred tried to pull away from you but you tightened your hold so he wouldn’t move, “I just thought if I could save you from being in trouble again, that you would talk to me again.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me then?”

Fred didn’t respond at first, instead, he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Finally, he said, “Because you ran away from me last time we talked. You didn’t even want to tell me your name. I just figured you wouldn’t want to speak to me. And then you haven’t even looked at me since that night.”

Your gaze fell to your shoes, “I’m sorry, Fred. I only ran away because I was nervous and...”

“And?” He tilted your chin back up so he could see your face, his gaze lingering on your lips.

“And I felt like you wouldn’t care who I was. You didn’t even know I was in Gryffindor until two weeks ago so what would be so different about now.”

“Are you crazy? I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. It’s been driving George nuts, how much I’ve been talking about you.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words. “Why me? You never noticed me before.”

Fred leaned closer to you, making your head spin with his closeness. “I’m not afraid to admit I was thick-headed. I’ve never had to look outside of my own world and that caused me to look over certain people. But in my whole life, I’ve never had someone recognize me as an individual. You knew, in an instant, who I was, and even tonight, you knew it was me just by my voice. I guess what I’m saying is, you amaze me. And I regret not taking the time to get to know you sooner.”

Your jaw dropped slightly at the confession, making Fred grin down at you. Not giving yourself the opportunity to second guess, you lifted up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. Fred’s free arm snaked around your waist and pulled you tight against his body as he deepened the kiss.

Sooner than you wanted, he pulled away with a huge smile on his face. Softly, he placed small kisses on your nose and your cheeks, making you giggle at the sensation, before he rested his forehead against yours. You couldn’t help smiling the longer you looked into his eyes.

“You’re wrong, by the way.” You said in a low voice, not wanting to break the moment. Fred’s brow furrowed in confusion at your statement. “I’ve looked your way every single day and I was hoping that you would talk to me. Instead, I had George harassing me every time I turned around.”

Fred snorted, “he’s a bloody idiot. He didn’t think you could really tell us apart so he wanted to test you.”

“I assumed it was something like that, it was just very annoying.”

“He still thinks it’s a trick but he can’t figure out how you’re doing it.” Fred chuckled.

Looping your arms around Fred’s neck, you drew him in closer. “The trick is that I know who I’m attracted to and that person is you.” You said, pecking his lips once more.

“That, and we look nothing alike, right?” Fred teased, making you laugh again.