#kellah

How ironic, you thought, that you were writing about the Calming Drought when you hadn’t felt calm once all year.

You came from a muggle family, and while many creatures of the wizarding world were still unfamiliar to you, dementors were one aspect you wish had remained secret. They terrified you, to put it plainly.

You hadn’t slept soundly since the first day of the semester when one of them had just floated into the train compartment you were sharing with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. You’d almost passed out right then and there, and you weren’t even the person it was interested in.

You understood why they were there, but you still hated them. You could hardly go anywhere without seeing one hovering lifelessly through a window or lurking slowly over the Quidditch Pitch. As Hermione had said herself, you didn’t need to be near one for it to make you feel absolutely awful.

And while you didn’t like to think of yourself as an anxious person, the dementors’ presence this year had completely degraded your mental state. You were sleeping less, eating less, and trying to cope by putting all your effort into your schoolwork. At least when you were preoccupied with an essay or studying, you’d get a small distraction from the horrible creatures that permeated your everyday life.

“Oi, (Y/n)!”

You jumped about five feet in the air at the sudden noise, essay and quill falling unceremoniously to the floor. You groaned, twisting in your seat and eyes widening at the sight of Fred Weasley approaching you, a concerned look on his face.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized sincerely. You gulped, ignoring the term of endearment, and shook your head dismissively.

“It’s alright,” you replied with a wave of your hand. “Just caught me off guard is all.” You reached down to pick up the items you’d launched off your lap. When you sat back up, Fred was walking over with a chair he’d grabbed from a nearby desk. You gave him a small smile as he sat down next to you.

“I’m assuming you’d like help with something?” you teased knowingly. He grinned and nodded.

“Hermione said you were in the middle of writing a potions essay, and seeing as Georgie and I have spent the last week studying for our potions OWL, I figured I’d come ask you all the questions Hermione couldn’t answer for us,” he explained. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

You feigned offense. “Wow, Hermione first then me? I see how it is, Weasley.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothing it out on his thigh.

“These are our areas of concern,” he said, handing the paper to you.

“Areas of concern?” You raised an eyebrow as you scanned over the paper, chewing your bottom lip lightly as you tried to figure out what topics you could actually help him with. You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing at the sight of him watching you intently with a small smile on his face.

You’d always been a bit infatuated with Fred Weasley, but then again, who wasn’t? Fred and George were Quidditch legends, insanely popular (but in the truly social way, not the stuck up “I’m better than everyone” way), and quite smart. They were funny but caring, and stood up for anyone who needed it. He was also a year older than you, and thus you regarded him as completely unattainable.

“I understand everything up until this here,” you said finally, pointing at where ‘Draught of Peace’ was written. “I think this is where the fifth year curriculum begins, and obviously I’m not there yet.”

“I will gladly accept whatever help you can give,” Fred replied, grimacing as Madam Pince interrupted him with a loud “Shh!”

You startled again, exhaling quickly and glaring at Fred for causing the reprimand.

“Someone’s jumpy today,” he said, brows furrowing slightly. “You alright, (Y/n)?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you replied, looking down at Fred’s list once again. You went to hand it back to him, only to find him staring at you with an apprehensive look. “What?” you asked defensively.

“Have you been sleeping lately?” he asked quietly. You gulped, realizing you hadn’t concealed the dark purple bags under your eyes before you’d left your dorm.

“It’s just been a tough week,” you replied firmly, shoving the list into his hands and reaching down to gather your things.

“(Y/n)-”

“It’s late,” you stated, cutting him off before he could interrogate you further. “How about we get together to study sometime this week? That way I can find all my essays from this year for reference.”

“That works fine for me,” he replied hesitantly. “Are you-”

“I’m free any day except Wednesday, and Thursday morning because I have a Charms test,” you interrupted again, standing up quickly. “Just let me know whenever.”

He nodded slowly, pushing himself out of his seat as well, concern still etched across his face. You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“How about tomorrow in the Great Hall? After my Quidditch practice,” he finally suggested. You nodded eagerly.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.” You gave him a small wave and rushed towards the doors, trying to ignore your heart beating ten times faster than normal and the memory of Fred’s worried gaze.

• • •

When you woke up from yet another night of hardly any sleep, you realized you had absolutely no idea when Quidditch practice was. You had walked down to the common room looking for Harry, but lo and behold, Oliver Wood was already up and annotating a book on Quidditch strategies at nine in the morning.

Practice was from three to five on Sundays, as you quickly found out, meaning you had a whole eight hours to stress about studying with Fred before it actually happened.

You spent an hour trying to fall back asleep and another working on your potions essay, then decided you’d had enough of your own room and went to bother Hermione in her dorm. You found her sitting on the carpet surrounded by a copious amount of notes, with Lavender and Parvati helping her sort through them.

“Transfiguration,” Parvati explained as you sat down to help them. “We have a test on Friday.”

“A bloody hard one, too,” Lavender said, slightly exasperated. “Four chapters worth of short ended questions and two essays.”

“Where’s Kellah?” you asked, realizing the fourth inhabitant of the dorm was missing.

“Interrogating McGonagall about all this.” Lavender jabbed a figure at a stack of notes spitefully.

“Maybe Kellah will convince her to give us all bonus points,” Parvati suggested. Hermione laughed softly, head still bowed over a lengthy piece of parchment in front of her.

“I hear you’ve got a study date with Fred Weasley this afternoon,” Hermione said, glancing up to give you a grin and an eyebrow wiggle. You groaned, blushing as Lavender and Parvati squealed.

“It’s really not that serious-”

“Except that it is!” Lavender all but shrieked. “You’ve liked him for forever!”

“Sweet Merlin, this is your chance!” Parvati gushed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m genuinely so excited about this.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be sure to give you all updates tomorrow, though I can’t promise they’ll be all that interesting.”

The four of you continued to talk about your looming study session with Fred as you combed through Hermione’s notes.

“This’ll be good for you, (Y/n),” Parvati said thoughtfully. “I mean, Fred’s a great guy, he’s always cared about you-”

“Maybe hanging out with him more will help with the whole, y’know, anxiety situation,” Lavender added. You shrugged.

“I mean, I saw him for literally five minutes yesterday and he’s already figured out that I’m not sleeping,” you said, chewing your bottom lip. “And I don’t why but the thought of him knowing everything makes me nervous.”

“Why?” Hermione asked curiously. You shrugged again.

“I guess I just don’t want him to be upset, or worried.”

“(Y/n), Fred would never be upset with you,” she said reassuringly.

“I think it’s romantic that he’s all in-tune with your emotions,” Parvati said wistfully.

“And he cares,” Lavender sighed, staring at the carpet emotionally. You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks, guys.”

• • •

At 2:30, you tried to convince yourself that you were heading down to the common room to relax, not to catch a glimpse of your favorite Weasley twin on his way to practice. That was a lie.

Fifteen minutes later, Fred Weasley ambled down the steps with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, laughing loudly with George while Oliver trailed behind them muttering something about maturity. Fred’s face lit up as he caught sight of you curled up on the couch and smiled at you brightly. You gave him a small wave in return, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the faint blush on your cheeks.

“I’ll see you later!” he called on his way out of the room. George paused in the doorway to give you an exaggerated wink, giggling when you glared at him before turning to catch up with the rest of the team.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, cursing your quickened pulse and sweaty palms - he’d only been in the same room as you, for Merlin’s sake, there was no need to get so worked up.

And yet Fred had all your nerves on edge as the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to five o’clock. You pulled out your potions textbook and a spare piece of parchment, deciding to make a few notes for later.

At some point you dozed off, your lack of sleep catching up with you as it often did in the middle of the afternoon. You’d become a frequent napper in the last month or so, finding it easier to fall asleep when it was still light out. Today, however, was not the best day for one of your four hour recovery naps.

You woke up with half an hour to spare before you needed to be in the Great Hall. You went back up to your room, gathered your typical study things and changed out of the pajamas you’d been in all day, opting for a sweater and a new pair of sweatpants instead. This time, you made sure to dab concealer under your eyes, erasing all evidence of your insomnia before you left Gryffindor Tower.

There were only a few students sitting in the Great Hall when you got there. You took a seat in the middle of the Gryffindor table and inspected the baskets of assorted snacks in front of you as you set your bag down.

One of the first years, a girl named Amara, pushed a basket of pumpkin pasties towards you from her seat across the table. She gave you a shy smile. “I know you like them.”

“Thank you, Amara,” you said, grinning at the young Gryffindor and grabbing two of the pasties.

“What’s that about?” she asked as you pulled your textbook out of your bag.

“Potions,” you said, setting the book on the table in front of you. “I’m helping Fred study for his exams.”

“Fred Weasley?” Amara asked with wide eyes. You chuckled.

“The one and only.”

As if on cue, Fred made his way through the doors of the Great Hall, head turning as he scanned the room for you. He grinned as his eyes met yours and hastened his pace just a little bit. Your heart skipped a beat, admiring the way his sweatpants hugged his legs and the slight flush to his face.

“Hello, love,” he said, sliding into the seat next to you. You gave him a small smile, eyes widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist. If he noticed the blush tickling your cheeks he ignored it.

“And hello to you, too, Amara,” he continued, giving her a wave. “You look lovely today.”

She squeaked, face turning a bright shade of red as she scampered down the bench towards her classmates. You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

“You’re a menace,” you scolded.

“Sure am,” he replied proudly, removing his arm from your waist and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. “So, potions.”

You nodded, flipping open your textbook to the Wit-Sharpening Potion (which you’d bookmarked earlier). “This is the first thing in the fourth year curriculum.”

“Which is where Hermione left off,” he added with a nod.

“I’ve already read it over,” you explained, pointing at some of the annotations you’d made earlier. “So we can review it together and then you can copy down all the important bits to study later.”

He looked down at himself and then gave you a sheepish look. “Do you by chance have something I could write on?” he asked. You sighed, reaching into your bag to grab a piece of parchment and a quill.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Weasley,” you said sarcastically.

“Oh, I hope so,” he replied cheekily, giving you a heart-melting grin.

You spent the next hour or so guiding him through the effects and recipes of each potion. He actually did a surprisingly good job at paying attention, taking detailed notes and only interrupting every once in a while to point out Amara staring at the two of you from a distance.

“She’s so cute,” you remarked softly, watching her gossip energetically with her friends.

“She reminds me of you when you were a first year,” Fred said. You gave him a confused glance.

“What do you mean?”

“Very enthusiastic, easy to rile up,” he explained.

“Now I understand why you and George pulled so many pranks on me,” you groaned, turning the page to the chapter on Skele-Gro.

“It’s was our job to terrorize the new students,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “Peeves’ orders.”

“Uhuh,” you said sarcastically, unable to keep the grin off your face.

“This is the stuff Madam Pomfrey gave to Harry last year!” Fred said excitedly, pointing at the book. You grinned and nodded.

“Yes! Now what’s it made of?” you asked, covering the ingredient list with your hand.

Fred’s nose scrunched as he concentrated. “Erm, puffer fish, and an arm bone, and…spiders?”

“One spider,” you corrected, lifting your hand off the page. “And a bunch of other things.”

“Chinese chomping cabbage, five Scarab beetles…” he mumbled, scribbling onto his parchment as he squinted at the list.

“Invented by Linfred of Stinchcombe,” you added.

“Funny name,” Fred chuckled.

“Which one?” you asked. “Linfred, or Stinchcombe?”

“Both.”

You giggled softly, gaze trailing upwards as the light emitting from the ceiling changed from a pale yellow to a deep blue. The floating candles gleamed brightly against the dark night sky. Despite the change, there was still enough light shining on the tables for you to be able to work.

“Lovely nighttime ambience,” Fred remarked from beside you.

“You sound like you work in real estate,” you replied, gaze moving from the ceiling to the large window at the front of the hall.

You inhaled sharply, noticing the all-too familiar silhouette of a dementor floating just beyond the glass.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Fred asked softly from behind you. You hardly noticed the hand he rested gently on your arm, focused entirely on the dementor hanging in the air like a twisted puppet.

“Dumbledore said they weren’t going to come on the school grounds,” you muttered.

Fred followed your gaze to the window, and you felt him stiffen behind you. “Ah.”

You turned back around in your seat, knocking his hand off you, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your notes.

“I think we can move on, yea?” you said, flipping to the next chapter.

“(Y/n)-”

“Antidotes,” you announced, clapping your hands together dismissively. “Very specific healing potions-”

“(Y/n)!” Fred interrupted, reaching out and covering your hand with his own. You sighed, finding yourself feeling oddly uncomfortable under his concerned gaze. “What, Fred?”

“Exactly, what the bloody hell was that?” he asked, a bit harshly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The dementor!” he said exasperatedly, frown deepening as you shivered. “(Y/n)?” His voice was much softer this time.

“I don’t like talking about them,” you said finally, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath. “They scare the shit out of me.”

“Are the dementors why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Your eyes snapped open, giving Fred an incredulous look. “I’ve been sleeping just fine, thank you.”

“I hope you don’t think last night in the library was the first time I’ve noticed,” he said softly. Your heart skipped a beat. “All year you’ve seemed…more reserved. Tired. You yawn all the time, I hardly see you eat.”

“I’m just…stressed,” you managed, glancing at the pumpkin pasties you’d set aside earlier. The dementor had taken your appetite away completely.

“It seems more serious than that,” Fred muttered, placing his hand on top of yours and squeezing gently. 

You sighed, glancing down the table to where Amara and her friends were staring at you intently. “Could we continue this conversation elsewhere?” you asked quietly. Fred nodded, helping you put your things in your bag.

“When did it start?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the doors at the end of the Great Hall.

“It’s been all year,” you admitted, cringing at the way Fred exhaled sharply. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

“Of course I noticed,” Fred said, pushing the door open for you. “You’re worth watching.”

You blushed and followed him down the corridor. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the kitchens?” he said. “It’s warm there, plus the house-elves are just starting dinner.”

Fred stayed by your side as you walked down the stairs, hand brushing against the back of yours lightly every time he took another step down. You bit your lip, imagining how it would feel to get to hold his hand.

“How was Quidditch practice?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. Fred looked down at you and gave you a small grin.

“You really want to know?”

You nodded.

“Absolute shit,” he replied, emphasizing every syllable. You stifled a laugh as his brows furrowed in frustration. “Wood has been up in everyone’s business for weeks trying to get us to learn this new play. You know who invented it?”

“Who?” you asked curiously.

“The Pride of Portree!” he said exasperatedly. “They’re bloody professionals, and Wood can’t seem to understand how we’re not performing as well as they are.”

“Wood’s a bit of a lunatic when it comes to Quidditch,” you agreed.

“A bit is an understatement,” Fred snorted, stopping at the fruit bowl painting that concealed the entrance to the kitchens. “Do you want to tickle the pear or should I?” “Don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before,” you laughed. “You can do it.”

Fred reached out and gave the two dimensional fruit a tickle, grinning as it turned into a door handle. He pulled it open. “After you, m’lady.”

“(Y/n)!”

You grinned and waved hello to Krafty, one of your favorite house-elves.

“Hello, Krafty,” Fred called, pulling the door shut and coming to stand beside you.

“Mr. Weasley,” Krafty said, giving a slight bow. “Krafty must go help work on dinner!”

You glanced up at Fred as the house-elf scurried off. “I didn’t know you knew Krafty.”

“George and I come here all the time to steal food before bed,” he explained, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards one of the tables. “We know quite a few of these guys.”

He sat down and patted the bench next to him, grinning as you followed suit and rested your head against his arm.

“Comfortable?” he asked. You nodded.

“Your mother’s sweaters are always so cozy,” you mumbled. “I stole one of Ginny’s old ones to sleep in.”

Fred chuckled. “I’ll just ask her to make you one.”

“I don’t want to burden her,” you whined.

“She loves you, she won’t mind.”

“I miss your mum,” you said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” “You should come visit,” Fred suggested. You shrugged, sitting up straight. “Maybe.”

Fred reached around your back and grabbed a roll out of a basket behind you. You gave him a confused look as he forced it into your hands.

“Would you please eat this,” he said. “I haven’t seen you eat a full meal in weeks and it’s starting to make me nervous.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking a small bite of the bread.

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” Fred said softly, “it’s just that you have to eat.”

“It’s not like I’m trying not to,” you explained. “I want to eat, but I get so…so nervous that I stop being hungry.”

“Because of the dementors?” he asked.

“Yea.” You cringed at how small your voice sounded.

“Why do they freak you out so much?” he asked genuinely. “I mean, they’re creepy and all, but you seem more affected by them than most other people.”

“You remember how one came into our compartment on the Hogwarts Express?” you asked. “At the beginning of the year?”

Fred frowned and nodded. “Don’t think Ron slept for two weeks.”

“Yea, well, I haven’t really slept since then,” you muttered.

“(Y/n), it’s been months,” Fred said incredulously, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I genuinely have no idea how you’ve been functioning this whole time.”

“I know it’s bad,” you sighed, leaning into his chest and trying to ignore the way his caring tugged at your emotions. “But it’s just…so dark in my room at night. And I’m always the last one awake and I feel so alone, and then I’m just reminded of how lonely and terrified and cold the dementor made me feel.”

“You have to sleep sometimes,” Fred said, pulling you in closer to him. “I read somewhere that you’ll die if you don’t sleep at all, and you’re clearly alive.” He pulled back and gave you a once-over. “Well, kind of.”

You snorted. “I take a lot of naps.”

“Is it easier to fall asleep during the day?”

“Yea, and I can hear people moving around and talking and stuff, so I don’t feel as isolated I guess,” you said.  Fred hummed, thinking to himself.

“Would it be okay if I proposed a rather outlandish and potentially polarizing solution,” he said finally.

“Uh, sure,” you replied, motioning for him to speak.

Fred cleared his throat. “You could, y’know, if you wanted to, come sleep with me. Only if you were okay with it, of course.”

You were sure you’d heard him wrong, eyes bulging as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Jesus, (Y/n), don’t look at me like that,” he teased with a nervous chuckle. You blinked, trying to force your face into a more normal expression.

“You…you want me to sleep with you?” you asked.

“Not sexually!” he clarified quickly. “Just like physical sleeping, and I could keep you company so you wouldn’t feel lonely.” A pause. “Unless you’d prefer sexually.”

You felt your face turn increasing shades of bright red, stuttering for an answer as he grinned at you adoringly. Your eyes widened as he reached out and grasped your thigh gently, staring down at his hand and then back up at him.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you I fancy you?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for any trace of an answer.

“No,” you managed breathlessly. “This is a perfect time.” His lips were on yours in an instant, your eyes fluttering closed as one of his hands came up to cup your jaw, the other resting on the small of your back, coaxing you closer to him.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you senseless and caressing your face with his thumb.

And suddenly you remembered you were still in the kitchens. In the kitchens snogging Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” you murmured, pulling back and taking a deep breath. You opened your eyes, relishing in the sight of Fred panting, his eyes still closed. “Fred, we have an audience.”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the small crowd of house-elves watching you from a distance, all donning shocked expressions. “Krafty! Doesn’t (Y/n) look ravishing this evening?”

Krafty blushed furiously, turning around and hurrying away with the platter he was carrying.

“Fred Weasley!” you scolded.

“I wasn’t completely joking, you know,” he muttered, looking back at you. “You look gorgeous. Absolutely stunning, inside and out.”

You blushed. “I, erm, fancy you too,” you said, realizing you hadn’t said it back before. “In case you were wondering.”

Fred grinned, pushing himself to his feet and reaching down to help you stand up. “Let’s take this back up to my dorm, yea? We can make tea and look at that potions book a little more, and then maybe you can spend the night?”