The boys heard the clacking of your Oxford shoes on the stone path, turning to you as you approached. Both wore their usual grins, full of mischief and pleasure in whatever they had just done. You looked to the ground, finding a pale blond ferret on the stones by their feet.

"Now, what are you two up to?" you asked, crossing your arms in an attempt to appear intimidating.

This only caused Fred's grin to widen. "We just thought that Hogwarts could use a new pet."

"And who exactly is this pet?" you asked, bending down to pick up the ferret. It looked up at you, and you noticed that it had remarkably blue eyes.

"I think we should call him Mal-ferret. He makes a bloody cute critter, doesn't he?" George replied, tickling at the ferret in your hands.

You gasped, realizing who was in your hands. Draco Malfoy.

"You turned Malfoy into a ferret?! Are you bloody insane?" you asked, your voice raising in frustration and disbelief.

The boys only chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying their prank.

"Turn him back right this instant!" you demanded, placing Malfoy back onto the ground. "Don't make me get Snape, you gits!"

Fred grumbled, the smirk still playing at his lips. He loved when you got angry. And when you bossed him around.

George pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, turning the ferret back into a human. Slowly Malfoy's features returned as he grew back to his normal size. 

"I'm telling my father about this!" he fumed, staring up at Fred. The ginger towered over him, making Draco's threats rather ineffective.

Malfoy stormed off into the castle as the students in the courtyard laughed. The twins laughed along with them, still very pleased with themselves.

"When will you two learn..." you shook your head at them, taking out your notebook. "That's 20 points from Gryffindor."

Fred exhaled, reaching for your elbow as you recorded the point deduction in your notebook.

"Come on, little bird. You don't have to be that harsh," he said, his voice sounding like honey as he tried to convince you to change your mind.

You looked up at him, being sure to make direct eye contact. "Flirting with me won't change your fate, Weasley."

George chuckled behind him, and Fred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He straightened his shoulders, preparing to respond.

Fred leaned in, his nose almost brushing your ear. "If I were trying to flirt with you, darling, it would be a bit more obvious," he said, his voice low.

His breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to form. Your words caught in your throat and you almost choked. Heat rose in your cheeks, and you balled your fists in an attempt to regain control.

"You don't have an effect on me, pretty boy," you replied, spitting out the last two words. Your eyes locked, and you glared at him. Your heart began to pound as you held eye contact. His perfect hazel eyes bore into yours, the corners of his mouth turned up into a grin. The look in his eyes was almost...lustful.

Your jaw locked as your stubbornness kicked in. He was not going to win this. 

Fred took a step back, his hand reaching for the end of your braid and twirling it. "I'll see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow, birdie."

His sickening smile remained on his lips as he turned to George, walking back toward the castle doors. You let out a breath and hustled over to your own group of friends.

It was too late for you. Fred had noticed the color in your cheeks. The way you were fighting for control. It was in that moment that he knew he had to have you.

Fred had always liked you. You had several classes together over the years, and you were kind to him and his brother. You tutored him in Potions during third year, and you weren't as stuck-up as your fellow Ravenclaws.

There was something so tempting about you. Your "good girl" persona mixed with your unshakable attitude. It was like a drug to Fred, and now that he knew that he could make you weak in the knees, he was going to exploit it.

By the time you made it across the courtyard to your friends, your entire face was bright red. "Let's go inside," you insisted, hurrying out the words as you pushed towards the doors.

You had barely made it inside before your friends were asking questions.

"What happened?" Cho asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The way Fred was looking at you was...intense."

You ran your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself. You had always thought that Fred was cute, but his reputation as a player had kept you away. You'd talked to him before in passing, but never like this. It was an adrenaline rush to stand your ground against him. Holding power over him felt...addicting.

"The twins just...they were just being gits. And Fred is always...you know Fred. He's defiant," you replied, your sentences smashing together as you attempted to compose yourself.

"Hey, are you okay?" Cho asked, running a hand down your arm.

"Yeah, just...didn't expect Fred to talk back to me. It's not usually that difficult to take House points away," you said, attempting to explain away why you were so flustered.

"But the way that he was looking at you..." Beatrice chimed in. "He looked....I don't know. I've never seen him like that."

"He's just being Fred," you said, trying to dismiss it. "Let's go to the library, I have mountains of homework."

Your group headed towards the library, finding your usual table and settling in. You tried to work on an essay for Muggle Studies, but you couldn't focus. Your thoughts kept wandering back to Fred and his hazel eyes burning into yours. The way his breath felt on your neck. His fingers twirling your hair.

You tried to snap yourself out of it. You knew that Fred was a flirt. He had quite the reputation with the girls at Hogwarts, and he did not have a hard time finding a date. He was probably just messing with you. It was nothing, and you scolded yourself for replaying the scene in your head over and over again.

----

Fred and George were lounging in the Common Room, finding anything to do instead of their homework. Fred was sketching in his sketchbook while George conjured and disintegrated flowers over and over again.

"What was your deal earlier today with that prefect?" George blurted out, breaking the silence in the room.

Fred turned to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, acting confused.

"You know exactly what I mean, you git. You were toying with her," George said, disintegrating another clump of flowers with his wand. 

"I wasn't toying with her," Fred said, seeming defensive. "I just...wanted to see if she would actually take the points away."

"Sureeeeeeeeeeee...." George replied, obviously doubtful. "You were flirting with her. In front of the whole courtyard, mind you."

"That was not flirting," Fred scoffed, focused on his sketchbook.

"What are you drawing?" George asked, getting up from his place on the couch to look at Fred's sketchbook.

"Nothing," Fred said, holding the sketchbook tight to his chest. "It's none of your business."

"Oh come on, Fred. Get off it. Show me the bloody sketch," George said, holding out his hand for the sketchbook.

Fred huffed, reluctantly handing it over. George took hold of the sketchbook, turning it so he could see the sketch. On the paper was a replica of your face. Fred had perfectly mimicked the stubborn fire behind your eyes.

"Oh, so you obviously don't fancy her," George mocked, still staring at the sketch.

"I never said that I didn't fancy her," Fred said. "I only said that I wasn't flirting with her."

"Where is this even coming from in the first place?" George asked. "We've known her for years and you just now fancy her?"

Fred shrugged. "I've always thought she was nice. Not as insufferable as some of those other Ravenclaws. But...I don't know. Something is different now. She isn't falling over herself for my attention."

"Oh, so you like her because she's a challenge?" George replied, his voice mocking. "That's endearing."

"Shut it, you prat. I can't explain it. She's just different. She's confident, and she's smart, and she doesn't back down. Most of the girls at Hogwarts aren't like that," Fred explained.

"The only girl here who knows how to talk back is Ang, but she's mine," George chuckled. "Interesting that we both like a strong-willed girl. Must be a twin thing."

Fred socked his twin in the arm, taking his sketchbook back. "You're being an arse."

"Never thought you'd fancy a Ravenclaw. They seem a bit too bookish for you. And how do you even know she fancies you too?" George rambled.

"I'm not sure if she does, but I can change that," Fred said, a smirk crossing his features. "I'm going to get her to come to the match this weekend. She'll be mine before the weekend is over, you'll see."

----

Students were buzzing at breakfast on Saturday morning. It was the day of the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, and everyone was nervous with anticipation for the face-off. You were somewhat indifferent to quidditch, but you usually went with your friends for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. It gave you a break from doing homework in the library.

You had just taken another bite of toast when someone tapped on your shoulder. You put the toast on your plate, turning around in confusion. Standing behind you was none other than Fred Weasley. A grin was on his lips and his hands were behind his back.

"Yes, Weasley?" you said, slight irritation lacing your voice. You had finally gotten him to stay out of your thoughts, and now here he was again.

"I wanted to make sure that you're coming to the match today," he said, a certain sweetness in his voice. "And I wanted to give you this."

Fred pulled a scarf out from behind his back. It was his Gryffindor scarf, adorned with his house colors, crest, and initials. You stared at it in disbelief as it hung from his hands in front of you.

"Uhm...okay," you replied, sheepishly taking the scarf from him. A blush was starting to form on your cheeks. This was quite the unexpected move from Fred.

"If you're going to cheer for me, you need to be wearing my colors," he said, giving you a wink. This did nothing to calm the redness of your cheeks. You racked your brain for a snide remark to shoot back at him.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Weasley, but if this is you trying to mark your territory, I don't want it," you said, finally regaining your resolve.

His eyes softened, making your stomach flutter. Damn it.

"I'm not marking my territory, birdie. I just wanted a pretty girl to have my scarf. You're my lucky charm today," he replied, cocking his head to the side in a way that gave him a boyish vibe.

You huffed in response, reluctant to accept his answer. Before you could make another snappy reply, Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"I don't mark my territory with a scarf, darling," he whispered, his voice low enough to give you chills. "I can show you later if you'd like."

You swallowed hard, clenching your jaw. You were not going to let Fred Weasley know that he could make you flustered. He can make any girl at Hogwarts swoon, but you were determined to not be one of them.

Fred backed away, a devious smirk on his lips. "I'll see you in the stands, birdie."

Fred left the Great Hall as if nothing had happened. You sat there trying to catch your breath, irritated at him for getting you so wound up. He was infuriating. But for some reason, you liked it.

----

You settled into the stands with Cho and Beatrice. Fred's scarf was in your backpack, and you were still debating on whether or not to wear it. 

"Come on, just put it on! It's cute that he gave you his scarf," Beatrice said, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Fred is adorable. All of the other girls are going to be jealous."

"Bea, Fred is a troublemaker," Cho replied. "He doesn't have the best reputation, and I wouldn't want to get mixed up in that if it were me. Wearing that scarf is just going to bring unwanted attention."

You had been stewing over this ever since breakfast. Now you knew that Fred's flirting wasn't just your overactive imagination or wishful thinking. It was real. You had to decide what to do, and you weren't quite sure of his intentions. 

"Wait, I have an idea," you blurted out, getting up from the stands before Beatrice or Cho could reply.

Your feet carried you to a place that you had been many, many times before. The Slytherin quidditch team's locker room. 

You had dated Adrian Pucey for most of last year, and you used the locker room as a place to hook up after hours. The breakup was relatively amicable. Adrian wanted to get more serious, and you were too focused on passing your O.W.L.s. You parted ways on good terms, but you knew he would be willing to get back together if you asked. 

You knocked on the locker room door, and Draco was the one to answer.

"Yes?" he asked, half-dressed in his uniform.

"Can you get Adrian for me?" you asked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door frame.

Draco shut the door. It opened a few moments later, but this time it was Adrian.

"Hey," he said, taking in your figure in the doorway. He always looked at you like that. A mix of lust and admiration. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," you replied, inching closer to him. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course, love," he said, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

Part of you felt guilty for this. Toying with Adrian was totally unnecessary, but you wanted to get under Fred's skin in the same way that he got under yours.

"Can I wear your scarf today?" you asked sweetly. "For old time's sake? And for good luck. I'm rooting for you."

"Anything for you," he replied. "I'll be back with it in a moment."

You huffed a sigh of relief as he turned back into the locker room to fetch the scarf. You had worn it to all of his matches last year, cheering for him from the stands even though you didn't understand all of the rules of quidditch.

Adrian returned to the door with his scarf, handing it to you.

"Thank you," you said. "I'll give it back after the match. You're going to be great."

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at you in the same way that he always had. It made your heart hurt in a way, but you were motivated by vengeance. 

You made your way back up into the stands to sit with Beatrice and Cho. You sat down, weaving Adrian's scarf around your neck.

Beatrice gasped. "You're a masher! Adrian's scarf!?"

You smirked, pleased with yourself. "Adrian and I are still friends. He deserves to win today."

Cho groaned. "You're digging your own grave. Fred is going to be insufferable when he sees you. And leading Adrian on? That's just dodgy."

"I'm not leading him on," you said, feeling defensive. "I just asked to wear his scarf for good luck. I didn't promise that we were getting back together."

"Whatever," Cho replied. "You're making your own mess."

The conversation came to an end as both teams entered the pitch. The crowd cheered as the players lined up on opposite sides of the pitch, awaiting their introductions. 

As the announcers began, Adrian's eyes found yours. You shot him a thumbs up, and he nodded at you with a small smile on his face. It was just like old times, and a pang of sadness shot through you.

From the moment that he stepped onto the pitch, Fred immediately clocked the scarf that you were wearing. The silver and green. Slytherin crest. The "AP" stitched onto the bottom of it near the fringe. He felt like his blood was boiling. 

He watched the interaction between you and Adrian, noticing the way that Adrian looked at you. You still had Adrian wrapped around your finger, and that pissed Fred off. He loved competition, but he loved winning even more. 

You finally dared to look at Fred and instantly regretted it. His jaw was locked in anger, and his eyes were burning into yours. Your stomach dropped for a moment, taking away the feeling of victory you had. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Before you could process the wave of emotions hitting you, the match had begun. You watched in anticipation, as Fred was now more determined than ever to bring home a win for Gryffindor. 

You chattered with Cho and Beatrice to try to calm your thoughts. What was Fred going to say to you after the match? You were wringing your hands in nervousness, dreading the interaction that you knew was going to come later. 

The crowd erupted into cheers as the announcer declared that Gryffindor had caught the Golden Snitch. You were on your feet in seconds, watching the Gryffindor team fly to the ground and pile onto each other in celebration. 

You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You were sure that Slytherin was going to win. Everyone was predicting that. This victory was unexpected, and you knew that it would give Fred another reason to gloat.

The teams lined up to congratulate each other, a practice that was required by the school because of past instances of bad sportsmanship between the teams. They high-fived each other, muttering "good game" before moving on to the next player.

Fred had finally reached Adrian. "Good game, Weasley," Adrian conceded through tight lips.

"Thanks Pucey," Fred replied, slapping Adrian's hand in a somewhat friendly high-five. "Is that your girl up there?"

Fred nodded to where you were standing with Beatrice and Cho in the crowd. Adrian's scarf was still wound around your neck, and you were playing with the fringe on the ends.

"Um....not anymore," Adrian admitted.

You were watching Fred and Adrian from your place in the stands. Seeing them converse made you feel uneasy. Especially when Fred began smirking. The look on his face was nothing short of diabolical.

"That's too bad," Fred said. "She looks cracking in that scarf. But I think she'd look even better with my hands around her neck."

You couldn't make out what they were saying, but the next thing you knew, Adrian's fist was connecting with Fred's face. It took only seconds for the other players to begin hollering and beating on each other.

The professors hurried into action, herding the spectating students toward the castle and attempting to break apart the fighting players. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Why would Adrian hit Fred?

The more you thought about it, the more you were able to paint a picture of what likely had happened. Fred has a smart mouth, and Adrian has a quick temper. It's a lethal combination.

----

You were stood in front of your mirror, fiddling with the skirt that Beatrice had lent you. She insisted on going to the Gryffindor victory party tonight. She had her eye on Oliver Wood, and she refused to go alone.

Parties weren't usually your scene. You had gone to a couple of Slytherin parties last year, but you hadn't stayed for long. You were usually only there long enough to take a few shots of firewhiskey, talk to friends, and would leave with Adrian to hook up.

Because of this, your wardrobe was not fit for a Gryffindor victory party. Some girls showed up in not much more than a bra and short skirt, while others opted for tying up their uniform tops and jeans. Beatrice was kind enough to let you borrow an outfit, but it made you self-conscious nonetheless.

It was only a plain black skirt and cropped cami. Nothing fancy, but you felt unlike yourself. Your day to day outfit was your uniform, and even then you paired it with preppy Oxfords and frilly socks. Nothing that screamed "sexy". You grabbed for your oversized flannel that you usually wore on the weekends, deciding that an extra layer would help your comfort level.

"Babe, you need to relax," Beatrice said, peering into the mirror on her desk to put the final touches on her lipgloss. "It's just a Gryffindor party. And you can leave once I have Oliver in my clutches."

"I know," you said, sounding defeated. "I just...Fred is going to be there."

You caught Beatrice's eyebrows raise from the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, so you're getting all worked up over Fred?"

You huffed. "No! I mean...he's just...he's going to be mad about the scarf."

"He's probably too knackered from the match today to care," Beatrice replied. "And from the beating he got from Adrian."

A lightbulb clicked on inside your head. You had forgotten to return Adrian's scarf. It was in your book bag. You reached for it, pulling out the scarf.

"That reminds me that I have to return this to Adrian," you said, turning towards the door. "I'll meet you back here in 15 minutes, I promise."

Before Beatrice could answer, you had already whirled out the door and down the stairs. You were headed for the Dungeons.

You still knew the passcode to the Slytherin dormitories, so getting inside was no problem at all. You made your way into their common room, finding Adrian on the couch with several of his quidditch teammates.

Your cheeks began to burn when he looked at you. It felt like he was devouring you with his eyes. He gulped, sitting up from the couch to greet you.

"Hey, love," he said, walking toward you. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yes, sorry," you said, feeling suddenly sheepish. "I came to return your scarf as promised."

You held it up to hand it to him, and he grabbed the other end, using it to pull you closer.

"You look....I don't even have words," he muttered, sending a lightning bolt down your spine. His hand found its way to your hip, and you felt squirmy under his touch. "Where are you headed?"

"Uhm...I'm going to the Gryffindor party with Bea," you admitted, pulling away from him. "She wanted support in her mission to get with Oliver Wood."

Adrian chuckled and let out a huff. "She's always up to something. Are you planning on spending any time with Weasley?"

"Adrian..." you started.

"No, you need to hear this. What he said about you," Adrian said, anger rising in his voice. "That prat sees you as nothing more than a good shag."

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling nervous. "I can make my own decisions, Adrian," you said softly, feeling small.

"I know, love, but I don't want you to get hurt. He's a prick. He gets bad marks. And the way he talks about girls? Disgusting," Adrian spat out, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to the party for Fred, I'm going for Bea," you said, hoping to soothe his frustration.

"He's just...I don't like the idea of him being anywhere near you. What he said about you today....he deserved that black eye," he grumbled.

"What did he say?" you finally asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"He said something about my scarf. How you would look prettier with his hands around your throat," Adrian said, sounding disgusted as the words came out of his mouth.

Your face felt like it was on fire. What was Fred thinking? Anyone who knew Adrian was well aware of his temper. A remark like that about you was a surefire way to get beat up.

"I...you know Fred. He was probably joking," you said, trying to brush it off.

"No. The look on his face...he was dead serious. Nobody gets to talk that way about you," Adrian replied, his fists balling at his sides.

"Adrian," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I promise you that I can take care of myself. I can handle Fred. He's just being a git, that's nothing new for him."

"I know, love," he sighed, melting into your touch. "I just worry about you. You know that I care."

You nodded, retracting your hand from its place on his arm. "And I appreciate that. But I can stand my ground. Beatrice will be with me the whole time, and once she's off with Oliver, I'm going to go back to my room. I will be okay."

This seemed to calm him down, as he finally unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Be safe," he said, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

You turned back toward the entrance to the common room, making your way back up to Bea's room. It had definitely been at least 15 minutes by now, and she was likely getting antsy waiting for your return.

----

You and Bea stood on the fringes of the Gryffindor common room. It was packed with students with cups in their hands. The music was loud enough that you thought the lights would start shaking. 

"Let's get some shots," Bea said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the makeshift bar set up near the fireplace. 

She picked up two shots, handing one to you. "Down the hatch," Bea said, taking her own shot.

You followed suit, grimacing at the burning sensation that followed. You had never enjoyed firewhiskey.

Bea occupied herself by looking for Oliver. You saw a tall ginger mingling with a group of other Gryffindors, and you couldn't quite tell if it was Fred or George from your view of the back of his head. 

"Looking for me, darling?" a voice said from behind you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his chest.

You turned to face him. His freckled face was marred with a black eye, the bruise extending from underneath his eye to the top of his cheekbone. Adrian must have hit him pretty hard.

You winced as you took in the injury, imagining that it had to hurt. "What, am I really that ugly?" Fred asked in a teasing tone. 

You stared up at him with a tight-lipped expression, crossing your arms. "It sounds like you deserved that black eye," you remarked.

Fred shrugged. "My words had their intended effect. Is Pucey still fuming?"

"You are such a git," you said, irritated at his lack of maturity. "I know what you said."

"Birdie, it's nothing that I wouldn't say to your face," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

"Stop calling me that," you replied, feeling angrier by the second. "I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm not an object. Now piss off."

Fred was taken aback by your words. His little game had gone too far.

"Darling, I didn't mean--" he started, reaching for your arm.

"I mean it Weasley," you said, your voice raising in volume. You shoved his chest, forcing him away from you. "Piss off."

Before he could get in another word, you had stormed off to find Bea. She had to be here somewhere.

In your mission to find Bea, you stumbled into Angelina. "Sorry, Angelina," you said, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand. "Have you seen Bea?"

She shook her head. "Last I saw her, she was with Wood. I haven't seen them in a bit, though."

You mumbled a thank you and continued your hunt. If she was off somewhere snogging Oliver Wood, you would be pretty impressed. That would be record time for Bea. 

You went up the stairs toward the dormitories, determined to find your friend. You began knocking on doors, hoping that Bea was behind one of them. You didn't want to leave until you knew she was safe.

One of the doors was cracked open, and you knocked. Nobody answered, so you peeked your head in. 

Someone was sitting in the dark, their head in their hands. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized who it was. 

"Fred?" you called into the dark room, your voice soft.

The figure picked up its head. "Yes?" he replied, his voice quiet and full of despair.

You entered the room, closing the door behind you. You pulled out your wand, muttering "lumos" before going any further.

Fred was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees. As you got closer, you noticed his face. It was puffy and red as if he had been crying.

"What's wrong?" you asked, sitting criss cross on the floor in front of him.

He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. You sat there in silence for a few moments before he swallowed, finally answering. 

"I'm sorry," he said, quiet enough that it sounded like a whisper. "I didn't mean...you're not...I'm just so sorry."

You looked up at Fred. There was a softness in his eyes that you had seen a few times before. It was genuine. He looked absolutely gutted. 

"Why are you sorry?" you asked, carefully prodding at him for answers.

"I didn't mean to make you feel like....like some sort of object," he said, sounding embarrassed. "You're not. I don't see you like that. I've been messing with you, but I took it too far. And I'm sorry."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had never seen Fred this vulnerable. And you had never heard him apologize before. 

"You're just...I thought we were both toying with each other. I liked it. The way you talk back to me, your stubbornness. I love that about you. But making you feel like I only see you as someone to shag...that's not what I intended. That's not how I feel," he continued. 

"Fred," you said, sitting up on your knees. You reached for his hand, holding it for a second before he pulled away. 

"I really do like you. I am so sorry that I made you upset," Fred said, locking eyes with you again. "You don't have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am. You deserve better."

You stood up from your place on the floor. You parted his knees, standing directly in front of him. He looked up at you from his place sitting on the bed, nothing but softness in his gaze. He truly was sorry, and you knew it. 

Your hand found its way to his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone that was bruised purple. You swallowed hard.

You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a whisper of a kiss. It was gentle, it barely even felt like your lips met at all. But you forgave him. This was your way of showing it. 

You pulled apart, but your gaze still held. "I forgive you, Fred," you whispered, your hand still on his cheek.

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not a mischievous grin like usual, but a genuine, kind smile. One filled with adoration. 

Fred was like putty in your hands. His tough exterior gave way to a person who was sensitive and kind. You had seen glimpses of that before, but never like this.

You finally knew how he felt about you. His feelings were genuine. And you were willing to trust him if he continued to be this vulnerable in front of you.

"I do quite enjoy teasing you," you said, smirking down at him.

"I knew it," he replied with a small chuckle, his hand lightly touching against your hip.

You were still stood between his legs, quite a precarious position. You knew exactly where you were going to go from here.

You shoved him back onto the bed, and he let out a "hmph" of surprise. Before he even got a word in, you were on top of him, straddling his torso.

Fred's eyes were wide with surprise and his brows dipped in confusion. "I thought you were sorry," you said, your voice dropping lower than usual, sounding almost sultry.

"I am," he said, still confused.

"Then prove it," you challenged him, placing a hand firmly on his chest.

Fred grinned up at you. Now you were on the same page. "Are you sure about that, darling?" he asked.

"Did I stutter?" you replied, a slight sharpness to your voice as you looked down at him.

His grin widened. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he teased.

In a matter of seconds, Fred had flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands over your head. He looked down at you, obviously very pleased with himself.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, locking eyes with you.

You gulped. "I don't want you to."

Fred leaned down to kiss you, your hands still pinned firmly above your head. He shifted so he was holding your wrists with only one hand, using the other to trail up your side.

The kisses started off slow at first, but they quickly gained in pace as Fred felt you squirming underneath him. "Impatient, are we?" he said between kisses.

You only groaned in reply, fighting against him to gain control of your hands again. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer into him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, begging him to be as close as possible.

His kisses migrated down to your jaw, then to your neck. He sucked a few love bites into the base of your neck, and you were dreading explaining those to your roommates in the morning. 

Fred was relishing in the tiny moans that were escaping from your mouth. He knew that you were desperate, so he was determined to take his time. 

"Freddie, please," you said, your voice almost sounding like a whine.

"Oh, so I'm Freddie now?" he teased, kissing along your collarbones. He alternated between kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane.

"If this is your way of apologizing, I don't forgive you," you teased back, squeezing your thighs around his midsection. Fred chuckled.

"What would you like then, birdie?" he asked, suddenly sounding sweet and innocent. His eyes found yours, and your voice got caught in your throat. You wished he didn't have that effect on you.

"Let me think..." you replied, trailing off in pretend thought. "Most people I know apologize on their knees."

Fred's eyes changed, the playful glint being replaced by a competitive fire. His trademark smirk crept across his face, and you knew you were in for it.

"Alright then," he said, finally releasing you. He backed off of the bed, standing on the floor in front of you.

Fred grabbed you by the backs of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed in one fluid motion. You giggled in reply, surprised by his sudden movements.

"I meant to tell you, this outfit is cracking," he said, tracing his hands down your thighs. A bolt of lightning ran down your spine, and you arched off of the bed. "I think you could lose the skirt, though."

Fred looked to you for permission, waiting for you to nod before he drew your legs together and tugged at your skirt. He pulled it all the way off, folding it before putting it on the floor.

"You're folding my clothes at a time like this?" you joked, trying not to feel embarrassed as you lay on his bed in only your top and knickers.

"You don't strike me as someone who likes creases in their clothes," he replied, pulling your legs open and kneeling on the floor. "You're a prefect, for Merlin's sake."

"Don't remind me of that while I'm half naked in your dormitory," you scolded him, playfully knocking at him with your knees.

"You're a good girl, I like that," Fred commented, brushing his hands on the outside of your thighs. He placed a kiss next to your knee, slowly kissing down your inner thighs. 

You tried to even your breathing, frustrated at how worked up you were over just some kisses. You were no stranger to sex, but this was something different altogether. Fred made you feel like your skin was on fire. 

Fred had finally reached your knickers, kissing along the waistband. A whimper escaped from your lips, and he looked up at you.

What a vision. Fred Weasley, cheeks flushed, lips pink, staring up at you with lust-filled eyes from between your legs. Your heart was beating so fast that you knew he could feel it too.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" Fred asked, his fingers playing along your waistband. 

"Freddie....please," was all you could manage to say. Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He pulled at your knickers, bringing your legs together so he could take them off. Instead of folding them like your skirt, he simply tossed them to the side.

"Will you tell me if you want to stop?" Fred asked, becoming serious for a moment. 

"Yes," you replied, reaching down to cup his face. You could still make out his freckles from the glint of your wand light. He was simply perfect.

Fred kissed your wrist, then kissed along your thighs once more. Your breathing became more rapid in anticipation of where his mouth would go next.

You could feel his breath on you. His lips finally made contact with your center, your hands gripping at his ginger locks.

He licked at your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. You moaned, your fingernails digging into his scalp.

It took him only moments to find his groove, causing moans and swears to fall from your lips as he worked you closer to your release.

"Freddie," you breathed out, tugging at his hair. He groaned into you, making your back arch even further off of the bed.

You bit your lip, trying to fight off your orgasm. Finishing this quickly felt like letting him win, and you couldn't have that. 

Fred could feel the tension building within your body. His hand reached up to find your cami, snaking underneath it. He expertly located your nipple, playing with it with his fingers. His mouth never left you for a second.

Your body finally gave in, tired from resisting the pleasure. Your hips bucked lightly off of the bed, a mix of "fuck"s and "Freddie"s leaving your mouth.

Fred worked you down from your orgasm slowly, finally leaving your clit to put a few love bites on your thighs. Your chest was heaving, and you were trying to find the words to say to him.

"So fucking gorgeous, birdie," he said, his eyes burning into yours. 

You moved backwards on the bed, motioning for him to join you. He got up from the floor, laying on the bed next to you.

"Do you forgive me now?" he teased, turning on his side to look at you.

"Hmmm...I'll need to consider it," you replied, grinning at him. 

Fred had been in control, but now it was your turn. You pushed at his shoulders, turning him so he was laying on his back. You straddled him once again, but he looked less surprised this time.

"You really love being in charge of me, huh?" he joked, his hands stroking at your sides. 

"It's only fair, Freddie. I am a prefect, as you so graciously reminded me," you said, propping your hands on his chest. 

"Okay, madam prefect. Are you going to give me detention?" he said, rolling his eyes at you as he grinned.

"You wish. An hour with me in a classroom? Sounds like a scene from your dreams," you teased. 

You leaned down to kiss him, hands still on his chest. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in closer.

A loud knock on the door interrupted your kissing. You and Fred scrambled apart, and you had pulled on your skirt in a matter of seconds.

Fred went to the door, cracking it open. "Is she with you?" a voice asked, sounding a lot like Beatrice.

You came up beside Fred so Beatrice could see you in the room. She looked you up and down, taking in your messy hair and crooked clothing.

"I...um, I was just coming to tell you that I'm going back to the dormitories," Bea said, obviously shocked at the sight in front of her. 

"Okay, I'll come with you," you said. "I'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes."

Bea nodded, turning and heading back toward the common room. Fred shut the door, and you looked for a mirror. You found one, attempting to tame your hair and straighten out your clothes.

"Perfect prefect doesn't like to get caught hooking up with troublemakers, does she?" Fred asked, half teasing and half serious.

"Fred," you said, turning to face him. 

"No, I get it. Not good for your image, or whatever," he said, busying himself with straightening the covers on his bed. 

"Freddie, look at me," you commanded, your voice edging between soft and authoritative.

He turned to you, his face unreadable. 

"I like you Freddie," you said, taking a few steps toward him. "I'm not worried about my image. Yes, I'm a prefect, but I don't have a broom up my arse."

Fred chuckled. You took the last few steps, finally standing in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug. Your head rested perfectly against his chest, and his hands found their way into your hair. 

"I'm sorry for antagonizing Adrian," Fred said, talking into your hair. "I know that he still loves you. I shouldn't have used that against him."

"Yeah, not your brightest idea," you replied, face still buried in his chest. "Adrian will understand eventually. He won't like it, but it's not up to him."

"Godric, you're sexy," Fred said, squeezing you tighter.

You laughed. "What was that for?"

"You don't let anyone tell you what to do. It's bloody irresistible," he replied. 

"You're included in that, you know," you said.

"Oh, I am very aware," he chuckled. 

"I have to go home with Bea," you said, slowly pulling out of the hug. "See you around?"

"'See you around'? That's the best you've got?" Fred joked, kissing the top of your head. 

"You wouldn't like me if I weren't hard to get," you replied, standing on your tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. 

You turned and opened the door, glancing over your shoulder at him.

"I will never stop pursuing you, birdie."

----

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

The faint music coming from the Great Hall only weighs down my heart as I listen to it. The music is jaunty and lively, I can hear the chatter of everyone talking and even worse, the laughter. The stairs are cold and dark, only illuminated by the light coming from inside the hall. My dress falls on the stairs below me and I rest my head on my hand, and my elbow on my knee.  

Consistently, someone would come out from inside the ball and talk about how wonderous the party is and how beautiful the decorations are. I haven’t gone inside. I couldn’t go inside. Not while he’s inside having the time of his life with someone other than me, both of them having their worlds redefined. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” Hermione asks me, slumping down on the steps beside me, kicking her shoes off. I tilt my head towards her and I shrug. The truth burns my chest but at least it doesn’t seem like I’m the only one dismayed. I say, “I don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“Aren’t you going with Fred?” She says, sitting next to me on the steps, and I purse my lips. I wanted to go with Fred, but he didn’t seem to want the same thing. I look down at my dress, the edges no doubt getting covered with dust from the stairs, it’s a shame that I wasted such a dress on a night like this. I remind her, “Fred asked Angelina, remember?” 

She nods her head, she was there afterall, when Fred decided to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball, in front of possibly half of Gryffindor house while we were trying to focus on our school work with Snape lurking behind us. Unlike Hermione, I didn’t finish my work fast enough to be able to leave after the event happened, I had to stay and mess up my essay because I was too busy thinking about the both of them dancing the night away. 

“I can hardly believe that no one asked you out,” she says, trying to distract from her own problems, but I can see her eyes turn glossy. If talking about myself helps her take her mind off things, then I’ll do it. I swallow my pride. 

“Roger Davis asked me,” I mumble quietly. Hermione's head jerks towards me, almost so appalled that she reaches her hand up and clutches the neckline of her dress. She says loudly, “Roger Davis!” 

A few people around us turn to look at us in suspicion. More and more people gather outside the hall to either kiss their dates goodnight or to cry because of them. What a disastrous night this is. Hermione shyed away and she repeated again this time, quietly while she shuffled closer to me, “Roger Davis, but he’s awful, Birdie!” 

“Yes, I know,” I say, mournfully, ignoring the nickname that was made popular by none other than Fred himself. Roger Davis was an arrogant slime. He cheated when he could on both tests and women, but most importantly, he cheats during Quidditch and that made him the perfect prospect to irritate Fred. I explain, “I knew he’d make Fred jealous.”

“That’s the most stupid reason I ever heard someone agree to date someone else for,” Hermione says, chest puffed out and her noise in the air. She may be dressed like a lady right now, but she’s still a fourteen year old girl. The plan seemed fool-proof, so I might as well go put on some bells on my head, and wear large pointed shoes. I say, “You’ll understand someday, Hermione.” 

I lift my hands to my face and rub, not at all gently, the makeup feels heavy on my face now, though there’s a tinge of sadness in me to waste the time and effort spent to make sure I looked extra good tonight. I thought it made sense if Fred asked me, ever since the ball was announced, he’d been alluding to it. The flirtations winks and the lingering hands, though I can imagine the boundaries dissolving when someone starts to like their friend. 

“Why aren’t you dancing with him now?” 

Another thing about Davis is that he’s a Ravenclaw and he isn’t anything if not smart. That’s how he got away with most of the things that he does. The second I reached the bottom of these stairs, it only took one look at Fred before he knew exactly what this was. Fred didn’t even wave to me before he ran to the Great Hall, only sparing Davis a glare. I say, “He preferred to dance with Fleur Delacour.” 

She nods her head and places her hand on mine. My feet ache yearning to dance the way they should be when they aren’t, it only stings more when I hear the sound of the footsteps moving in unison inside during a slow dance. I start to ask Hermione about her troubles; why she isn’t with Viktor Krum? Why I just saw her screaming and Ron and Harry (mostly Ron)? The heartfelt talk is disrupted when someone looms over us both, blocking the few rays illuminating from the party going on.

He’s standing at the last step of the stairs, looking like something out of a dream, the world around him covered in a haze of stardust. He truly was a vision. I cling my top teeth and bottom teeth together, forcing my mouth closed, so it doesn’t fall open in awe. He looks completely different in his suit. He says, “I didn’t expect to find you here.” 

Hermione looks between Fred and I and then she stands. She exclaims some nonsense excuse, “I need to go find my heels,” nevermind that she has them in her hands as she skitters away. Fred takes her place beside me on the stairs, just farther. 

“I saw Davis dancing with Delacour,” he mentions, twiddling with his fingers like he didn’t want to mention it at all. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. I didn’t manage to get his jealousy but I managed to get his pity. I turn my head away from him, wanting to curl up and die. 

“You should go, you don’t want to leave Angelina waiting,” I say, looking back at the entrance of the Great Hall that’s flashing with a pastel blue snowy light as the rock song shifts to a more slow song. I doubt that Angelina would want to miss that. Fred leans forward into my line of sight, head tilting to the side, his shaggy hair framing his face perfectly. I hope that tomorrow doesn’t hurt like today does.  

“I don’t think Angelina would mind, she’s dancing with George,” he says, and I frown thinking of George’s own date. I ask, “What about Alicia?” 

“She’s sick, she wasn’t able to come,” he explains, I didn’t even hear about Alicia getting sick. There’s no reason for me to be sitting on the stairs wallowing when I could be taking care of my friend. I rise, the fabric of my dress falling just below my ankles, protected from the dirty floor by my heels. 

“I should go make sure she’s okay,” I turn and begin to climb the stairs. Fred stops me, standing holding me in place by my wrist even when I’m two steps away. My heart imitating a hummingbird’s wings.  

“Stay.” 

If he wanted me to stay then he should’ve asked me to the ball instead. So many opportunities squandered over the last month; at every meal, at every class, after every Quidditch practice, and all the moments shared together. He clears his throat. He drops my hand and he goes up the two steps. Now, he’s towing over me again. He admits, “I should’ve asked you.” 

It stood my heart in its tracks and lodged my breath in my throat. He seems to have regained some sense. I say nothing. He heaves before repeating, “I should have asked you…I was…scared.” 

I find that hard to believe. I’ve seen him face, irritate and escape trolls, and I watched him as he tried to put his name in the goblet for this forsaken competition. He even faced Mrs. Weasley while she’s angry, the scariest of all. I scoff, “I don’t believe that.” 

“It’s true. Everything is different when it’s with you,” my cheeks flush again, this time far from embarrassed. He pushes a piece of a strand of my hair that fell from my updo behind my shoulder. He pushes the lapels of his suit down, adjusting the color, the heat rising up his neck noticeable when he does. He continues, “I saw the risk and I-I folded.” 

He’s talking slowly, his voice gentle and low. Unlike the usual loud and confident tone that he takes. It makes my palms sweat. The risk, the risk, the years of friendship thrown away if there’s a mistake in the relationship. He sighs,  “When I saw you with Davis, I couldn’t take it.” 

“I haven’t danced to a single song yet, couldn’t if it wasn’t with you,” he says. Fred takes both my hands in his and he pleads, “Please, spend the rest of the night with me, I’ve already made us waste enough time.” 

When did he learn to talk that way? It’s so…swoony. Then the piece de resistance, he smiles. It’s been years and his smile still hasn’t lost its powers. I mirror his expression and squeeze his hand. I cave in, “It would be a shame to waste this dress. And my hair also looks pretty good.” 

“You look beautiful,” he echoes, and I roll my eyes, fondly. The song changes from inside the Great Hall back to an upbeat song. Fred recognises the song instantly, he beams and even bounces a little. Two years ago, he spent the entire summer only listening to his song day and night. He exclaims, “That’s bloody brilliant! I love this song.” 

He tugs me towards the Great Hall or more like sprints actually. I laugh as I steady myself running down the stairs, and laugh again as I enter the winter wonderland and prepare myself for what could possibly be one of the best nights of my life. I just have to remember to tell Hermione that jealousy does work.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading! If you think this didn’t completely suck, feel free to check out my other masterlists. You can also support the blog or buy me a coffee here.

You carefully followed him through the crowd. Ducking around the dance floor, avoiding the overindulged students ahead of you. Your hand tightening around his, as he led you up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.  

The winding staircase led to his room at the top of the stairs. He pushed against the door, a soft squeak echoing through the staircase. A soft glisten from the candles within the room caught your eye as you brushed past him, entering his room. The smell of vanilla overtaking your senses again.  

The door remained cracked behind the both of you. You stared up at his taller stature, his dark eyes staring into yours. You could feel his gaze taking in every feature on your face, just as you took in his features. 

Your fingers trailed up his forearms, the veins protruding out softly. The feeling of his soft skin under your fingertips brought chills to your spine. Biting on your lips, you made your move. 

Your hand trailed up his arm once more, resting on the back of his neck. Playing with his soft, ginger hair at the nape of his neck. You brought his face to yours, your lips catching his softly. The taste of fire whiskey bouncing off his lips as he kissed you back softly.  

His hand trailed around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Lips moving in rhythm, you softly moaned against him. The idea of kissing him seemed like a fantasy until right now, he was in your grasp, and you had him.  

You pulled away from him, staring at his features. His gaze was glazed, and lips swollen from your heated moment together. The idea of what was to come sending butterflies running through your stomach. He dropped his hands from your waist, making his way to his bed. Slowly unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt.  

Watching as his long, thick fingers unbuttoned the delicate piece of fabric- it sent a chill down your spine and an image developed in your mind. The idea that this man was yours in this moment seemed unrealistic.  

You felt compelled to back towards the door, running before you made a mistake and you both regretted such a notion. The door softly closed behind your motion, and felt the door pressed against your back, as you watched him follow your movements.  

His face was filled with lust and need, his normally pale cheeks filled with a soft tint of red. His still swollen from the moment you shared only moment ago. You felt drawn to him in every way even with such fear of facing your feelings, not knowing how he felt.  

But even with a feeling of uncertainty, you felt his deep stare watching you softly, analyzing every motion your body made. The shutter that went down your spine as he bit his lip softly, the blush that crossed your features. 

The image you had in your mind of him buried deep between your legs made your pussy wet with excitement. You were hitting this home run, uncertain or not you wanted him.  

"You know George, I prefer a man on his knees" you said in a seductive tone. Watching his movements as he stalked towards you, his long legs reaching you no problem. 

He carefully gripped your hips, bringing you flush against him. Pinning you against the door.  

He carefully lowered himself to his knees, soft hands sliding under the hem of your green dress. He watched your actions, to make sure you were okay. A soft moan in response gave him exactly what he needed. 

Your dress carefully rose to your hips, your pussy displayed in the candlelight. The lack of undergarments taking his breath away.  

“No panties, naughty girl” he said, chuckling to himself as your moaned at the words. 

“No pantie lines” you softly laughed as his hands ran their way up your thighs.  

He carefully nudged your knees, pushing them slightly apart so he could take in your beautiful pussy in all its glory. He could see the wetness dripping from you, as you watched him taking you in.  

“You’re sure” he said, catching your eyes as you smiled down at him, you softly nodded knowing this is exactly where you wanted to be.  

Feeling his hot breath on your pussy, you felt your hips roll involuntarily towards him- almost enticing him in. He dove in, swiftly working his tongue on your pussy, the pleasure causing your hands to fly down into his hair, tugging.  

He lapped up your wetness, teasing your clit and your entrance with his long fingers. Your moans bounced off the walls as he entered his dinger into you. Softly pumping in and out, bringing the fire in your stomach closer to exploding.  

You tugged hard on his hard, a soft moan fell from his mouth as he nibbled on your clit. He was hell bound to get you to your orgasm, he wanted you in every way he could have you.  

“I'm clo-se" you moaned louder as your grip on him tightened. You could feel the fire in your stomach so close to exploding, the amount of pleasure overwhelming your senses.  

“Give it to me baby” he moaned, watching your orgasm fall over you. Loud moans bounced around the room as you pulsated around his fingers as he lapped up your orgasm.  

You felt your legs so weak under you, he rose from his knees and threw you over his shoulder making his way to the bed.  

Your back softly hit the bed as he hovered over you. HIs lips glistened in the candlelight from your orgasm. In this moment, there was no where you would rather be. Your hand found its way to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to you. His soft lips hit yours, fireworks bouncing around the room. 

He carefully pushed your dress all the way up, exposing your breasts to him. He broke the kiss, his lips finding your nipple softly. A moan falling from your lips as he softly sucked.  

You began rubbing your bare pussy against his clothed crotch. The erection he was sporting, sticking out like sore thumb.  

“Yes, my love” he said, watching your motions. 

“I need you” you moaned, against him once more, hips bucking at him.  

He chuckled as he swiftly shed his dress shirt and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled out his erection, his dick leaking pre-cum with a fiery red tip. He was just waiting to have you.  

You moaned at the view, the idea of him inside of you make you drip.  

You felt his tip at your entrance, teasing you gently. You moaned at the contact before he entered you with one swift movement. His large dick filling up every crevasse inside of you.  

He sat still momentarily, giving you a minute to adjust to his size. You offered him a soft nod and he began pounding into you. His hands finding your hips as he pulled you flush with him. His sharp movements sent your eyes flying back into your head as pleasure overtook your senses.  

You had never felt so full in your life as he pounded into you sharply. The sound of your hips repeatedly making contact echoed through the door room. Your eyes connected with his, his pupils blown with lust as he continued to fuck you senseless.  

“Who do you belong to?” he moaned; you felt your pussy pulsate around him. The fire in your stomach is igniting. His fingers finding your clit, rubbing softly to add to your pleasure. 

Your head fell back making contact with the sheets, “Yours” you moaned as you felt your orgasm hitting you full force. Your legs began to shake as you tightened around him.  

He threw his head back in a deep moan, chasing his climax. “Mine” you felt yourself whisper as you felt his warmth beginning to spill into you, filling you to the brim. 

“Yours” fell off his lips as his choked moans softly fell from his mouth as he slowly pulled out of you.  

You shivered at the loss of contact, propping yourself on your elbows- looking at him softly. A smile crossed his features as he looked at you. Taking in your post orgasm glow, knowing this was something he wanted every day.  

A newfound confidence erupted from you, “So are you going to ask me out now” you laughed, watching him.  

A goofy grin crossed his features, “Well of course, I might have to beg on my knees though- since that’s your favorite thing” Your jaw dropped at his statement, causing a bout of laughter to fall from the both of you.  

For the first time, the cloud of uncertainty had risen. And you most certainly hit the home run.