#geroge weasley oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilguna · 4 years

Text

☼ keeper (Fred & George Weasley) ☼

summary; fred and george are indirectly the reason why you get hurt during the next quidditch game. they can’t help but to feel guilty anyway.

warnings; swearing, a little bit of angst.

wc; 1.6k

Notes; READER IS GRYFFINDOR

–

“I think it’s going to be an easy game today!” Oliver says, he’s standing in front of the doorway, broom in hand as he looks over the team.

With two hands, you tighten the buckle that’s on your right boot, barely glancing at Oliver. He gives encouragement like this before each game as a way to get your spirits up. However, with him saying something like that--it’s so vague that you can’t tell if he means it’ll be easy for you, or for the other team.

“I think so too.” Fred says, he’s fixing the gloves on his hands, seated on the bench.

George on the other hand, is stretching, cracking his knuckles and turning his head both ways. After you’re sure your shoes are secure--because the one time they weren’t has haunted you all this time--you go ahead and stretch too. Being a keeper means you have to be flexible.

“What’d you two do?” you ask, looking between the boys.

“I didn’t even say anything.” George says, trying to defend his honor. But there’s a sneaky smile on his face, and he shares a look with Fred, confirming what you thought.

“You don’t have to say anything. You two always look guilty of something.”

Freds’ smile is widening into a grin, “Let’s just say that the slytherin’s should be more tired than usual.”

And that sentence alone isn’t giving you much comfort. You definitely shouldn’t have pried, you would have much rather preferred to figure it out later down the line. If what you’re thinking is right, then it wouldn’t have taken long to realize, anyway.

You don’t say anything else after that. Once you’re all stretched out and your muscles aren’t stiff, you’re all walking out and onto the field. You fix your gripping onto the broom, your eyes scanning the stands.

Hermione is definitely out there with Ron. Even if Hermione would prefer to be inside the library or the gryffindor common room studying, she’ll come out to keep Ron company. Plus, you know she doesn’t mind watching you, the twins and Harry play all together.

“Gotta be quick today.” Fred says, you look at him, and then the slytherin team.

“They don’t look happy.” George sounds delighted.

“Damn you two.” you hiss.

Whatever they did, it’s got slytherin riled up. They’re standing taller than usual, shoulders squared with meaner-than-usual faces. They’re glaring at you all accusingly, which means they definitely know that it was one of you guys that had done it. If they’re not morons, then their eyes will be on the twins.

But instead, they’re looking over the lot of you, as if you all banded together to make a plan to sabotage their… sleep? They’ve got lines beneath their eyes. Today must have been a rough day with classes and all. It doesn’t really matter anymore, all you know is that they’ll be taking it out on all of you, and not just the twins.

Madam Hooch stands next to the box full of the dangerous--and sometimes murderous--balls that will be hurled at you the entire game. On the other side of her, is of course the slytherins. You’re sure that if she weren’t in the middle, acting as an accidental buffer, there would have already been a fight on the field.

“Rough night?” Oliver asks, the question is innocent in his mind, but for them it’s provocative.

“You could say that.” Marcus says, he’s gritting his crooked teeth.

“If we get obliterated this game, I’m telling the entire team it’s your fault.” you tell the twins.

“As if the entire team doesn’t know already.” Fred says.

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch commands.

You fix yourself onto the broom, trying to find a comfortable position. You’d rather be comfy at the start just so you don’t have to be worried about adjusting while you’re in the air. That’s one way to be distracted the entire game.

Hooch releases the balls. You lean over to Fred, and then George to give them a high-five to start the game off. Right after, Madam Hooch is blowing her loud, silver whistle, and you’re off towards the hoops.

There, you keep an eye on the air. Fred and George are spectacular at making sure the bludgers don’t come anywhere near you, so you never have to worry about that. Even if it slips past them, they’ll yell a warning to you if you need to get out of the way.

As you reach down to tuck your pants back into your boot, your eyes catch the chasers coming your way. You jerk back up, watching the way they move, anticipating the direction they’re heading. With every foot gained, they only go faster.

Bloody hell.

You wait until the last second to head to the hoop on the far left. It’s too late for Warrington to head in the other direction, and you think he’s realizing that now. Nevertheless, he brings his arm as far back as he can stretch and launches it your way.

There’s definitely momentum on that ball.

You swing your foot at an angle so you don’t accidentally end up breaking toes. The ball collides with your boot, and you kick it so it gets sent straight to your team's chasers. They get the ball easily, and with one final glare from Warrington and Montague--they’re both gone.

You rub the spot where the quaffle had hit. Normally, you can’t feel anything. But then again, the balls are never coming that fast. The only times the other teams play aggressively is when you’re all so frustrated. Which means people get desperate and sooner or later, something bad is going to happen, and then it’s just a domino effect from there.

The quaffle goes right through the right hoop on slytherin’s side. It gets thrown back into play, and not even a couple seconds later, your teams’ chasers are scoring again. You watch as slytherin slowly gets more aggressive.

After one more score, a happy look on Oliver and two mischievous grins from the twins, the chasers are finally coming back your way. Warrington is leading the front, eyes switching from one hoop to another. Left, right, then middle. It’s almost like he can’t decide. Or he’s purposely waiting last second to throw so you don’t have time to go over.

You lean forward, prepared to throw yourself in the direction. His arm will twitch to the right, and you’re already tilting that way.

He genuinely looks like he’s throwing right, and since he’s out of time, it has to be his only choice. Only, the second you get over there, he’s throwing left and your name is being called.

“Bludger!” someone yells, you can’t tell who.

And right when your eyes have found it, it’s too late, clipping the top of your head.

“Madam Pomfrey said she should be awake by now.”

“She took a bludger to the head, she should be dead.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a yelp.

“She’ll wake up.”

“Or she already is. Look.”

You involuntarily push your eyebrows together, expecting nothing. Instead, you get the worst pain you’ve ever experienced in your life.

You have to relax your face immediately, opening your eyes as you reach up to touch the throbbing spot. It’s another bad idea, and Hermione catches your hand before you get the chance.

“Welcome back.” she says.

You look over who all is here; Ron and Harry are standing at the end of the bed. But the twins are sitting on stools off to the left, smiles on their faces.

“Did we lose?” you ask.

Hermione lets out a laugh, as do the others. She rolls her eyes, and lets go of your wrist, going back to sitting on her own chair, arms crossed over her chest.

“We won.” Fred says, his smile turning to a grin.

“Harry was quick to get the snitch after you got hit.” George explains, and you look over to Harry to see he’s got a sweet smile.

You snort, your head hurts but you pretend like it doesn’t, “So let me get this straight--if I get hurt every game, you’ll catch the snitch faster?”

“We were only worried because it was your head. Any other body part and we probably wouldn’t have cared.” Fred says.

You go to sit up in the bed, popping your knuckles. Fred laughs, thinking you won’t be able to do anything. However, George slaps the back of his twin’s head without a second thought. It’s a good betrayal, makes you trust George more.

“When do I get to leave? I wanna rub our win in Marcus’ face.”

“I’ll get Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione says, Harry and Ron trail her, allowing you a moment with the twins.

When you look over, expecting some witty remarks from either of them, you’re met with frowns, and Fred’s head is turned away. This can’t be good.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” you ask, sitting up further.

“‘M sorry.” Fred says, looking down to his hands, and then to you.

“About the joke?” you ask, “‘Cause you’ll have to do a lot more than that to hurt my feelings.”

“No, the bludger and the… prank.” George is pulling on his fingers, “I didn’t know that it would lead to that.”

“It’s not your fault.” you tell them, “I mean, if anything, it’s Warrington’s fault, and I fully plan on kicking his ass as soon as I’m out of this bed. You two saw him, right? That bludger was totally planned, it can’t be a coincidence.”

This has got Fred straightening up and George leaning forward, “That’s what we tried to tell Hooch, but the entire slytherin team denied it.”

“As if! They called a time out, and right when we got back to playing, they were so mechanical--”

#ilguna #george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #geroge weasley oneshot #george weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #hp #not requested

46 notes · View notes

exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Scars - Part Two (Fred Weasley x OC)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Scarlett Black, daughter of Sirius Black, has been invited along with Harry and Hermione to the Weasley's Bungalow for the summer before their 5th year. Whilst nice in theory, Scarlett would normally be spending her summer in her father's empty, old flat and finds herself missing the familiarity of that dingy apartment, and feels estranged with the unrelenting love of the Weasley Household. Fred Weasley is the unlikely friend who she finds distracting her from her unique homesickness, and the two find themselves falling into something a little bit bigger and a little more complicated then they could've ever expected.

Word Count: 4471

Pairings: Fred Weasley x OC

Warnings: A bit explicit towards the ened :)

A/N: I’m writing this story on my wattpad account, so if you like it and want early updates then I suggest you go read it over there!

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

Fred and Scarlett barely got to see each other again over the next few days. What with Bill's leaving dinner and the general bustling of the house. Scarlett had found herself becoming wrapped up in the feel of constantly being surrounded by others. She spent most of her time with Ginny and Hermione, performing chores for Mrs Weasley that ranged from repotting a collection of hydrangeas to cleaning out the third closet of the house, and hopefully turning it into a habitable space for someone to move into.

It's almost as though Scarlett had no time at all to even reflect on the moment she had shared with Fred on the first day. The only time her brain seemed to fizz back to that moment that was of grass and sunlight, was in the early hours of the morning. When Hermione and Ginny had no doubt already passed out, leaving Scarlett awake with only the moon to comfort her wandering mind.

The next time Scarlett became truly aware of Fred's presence, was during a gossip session with Ginny and Hermione over the dirty dishes from lunch.

"Scar, have you heard from Cormac at all?" Ginny had asked as the moved a stack of clean plates into their respective cupboard.

"Uh, no." Scarlett glanced up at Ginny, unable to conceal her slight shock at having heard his name being brought up in conversation.

"Just wondering."

"How long has it been anyway?" Hermione asked from her left, "Since you two..."

"Um, probably 4 or 5 months." Cormac had been somewhat of an old flame, perhaps not a flame, more of a spark. He had been a temporary distraction during the Triwizard Tournament, given that the rest of Scar's friends were usually busy with training or rehearsal. But as it turns out, the infatuation was exactly balanced, and Cormac McLaggen can turn rather bitter when he doesn't get what he wants.

"I remember when you two showed up at the Yule Ball together." Ginny snickered and Scarlett audibly groaned.

"Don't remind me...God, what a mess that was."

"Wait what happened?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know?" Ginny giggled, raising her brows. Hermione simply shrugged.

"Oh, no that's right, you were busy the whole night with Victor and Ron." Unbeknownst to Ginny, Scarlett saw Hermione flush an aggressive shade of red. "Well, Cormac asked Scar to come along to the Yule Ball and everything seemed fine and then, well..."

"The whole night he just picked a fight with me." Scarlett sighed. "He spent the whole time telling me that I should be enjoying myself more - and then he wouldn't shut up about the whole sacred twenty-eight, or whatever it is."

"You should've seen him 'Mione." Ginny clattered another plate onto the stack. "It's insane how much that boy gets away with."

"At least that night was the beginning of the end." Scarlett sighed.

"I think it was always supposed to end, right from when it started, he never treated you very well did he?" Scarlett stayed quiet for a moment, turning the notion over in her head. Was it possible for something to be doomed even before it had begun? Yes, Cormac didn't treat her very nicely, but he seemed no better or worse than any of the other guys she had dated.

"Is that why the twins were so angry that night?" Hermione asked, innocently enough. But even the mere mention of that red-headed boy shuddered Scarlett's heart to a quicker pace.

"Oh yeah!" Ginny seemed to remember something brilliant.

"Wait what? They were angry - I didn't see them that night."

"No, cause you ran off to God-knows-where after Cormac said that thing about your dad." God, she had almost forgotten that: 'I'm doing you a favour Scar, do you know how many guys don't want to go near you after what your father did - they say you're cursed blood. I'm the nice guy here.' She shuddered the memory away.

"What happened?"

"The twins must've found out what Cormac had said, they just went all protective mode y'know." Scarlett allowed an image to conjure in her mind of Fred, stoney faced, gripping Cormac by the shirt and glaring him down. "Speak of the devils. Fred, George - d'you remember what happened with Cormac at the Yule Ball."

Just then the twins had circled around the kitchen archway, dressed in plain cotton tees and dirty trousers, no doubt on their way to practice their beater runs. After spotting the three girls a lazy smile pulled on each of their lips and they circled around to the party. George jumping up onto the kitchen countertop whilst Fred merely leaned against the table, folding his arms over the thin fabric of his shirt.

"With Scar?" George asked. "Course...still don't understand what you saw in him Scar."

"Neither do I." She muttered quietly. "What did you guys do to him?"

"Nothing." Fred smiled coyly, "You know us...we're the nice guys we wouldn't do anything mean."

"Bull-shit," Ginny laughed, throwing the dishtowel over her shoulders, "You took him back to the Gryffindor common room and-"

"Ginny," Fred warned, his eyes flashing a darker more alarming shade of brown. "Enough." Ginny merely eyed her brother as she folded her arms over her chest, a playful glint sparking to life in her eye. Scarlett pretended she didn't notice this strange, intimate moment between siblings and simply began scrubbing at the next plate.

"At least that was Cormac done though," Hermione casually moved the conversation along, "After that he wouldn't go near our group - thank God."

"Wow, I didn't realise my dating escapades were so exhausting for you all." Scarlett mockingly rolled her eyes, plunging the last plate into the soapy bowl.

"Cormac was the only bad one-"

"Wait, 'one', there's been more?" Fred couldn't seem to be able to help to ask. Scarlett merely glanced at him over her shoulder, amused.

"Yes, not that I suppose it's any of your business Weasley." With that, she dried her hands and turned around. "Don't tell me you have a problem, Freddie, it's not as though you're exactly celibate." Fred didn't exactly say anything, but he maintained a playful yet serious glare whilst a muscle in his jaw ticked. And Scarlett noticed for the briefest moment how his eyes flickered down to her exposed shoulder from her tank top, black and purple from the bludger he'd pelted at her a few days ago.

"Oh yes, how is Angelina Fred?" Hermione smiled politely, and Scarlett felt her heart drop - didn't Fred and Angelina end things?

"She hates him." George laughed, giving someone Scarlett to look at other than Fred, "He's not exactly the world's best boyfriend if you hadn't noticed." Fred didn't speak, but Scarlett could feel a pair of eyes on her.

Fred and Angelina, the ultimate off and on again relationship. Now when Scarlett thought back to all those times she had given advice, helped in getting back with her, she couldn't help but feel violently ill. The last she'd heard they'd broken up for good, but this had happened at least three times by now - there was clearly something that always brought them back together. Scarlett shook away the thought, she couldn't dwell on this now.

The conversation lulled to an end and the twins moved out into the garden with their brooms to train. Part of Scarlett wanted to go out and join them but suddenly she couldn't get Angelina out of her head. She was undoubtedly beautiful, dark hair, flawless skin, not only that but she was a brilliant quidditch player, it's rumoured that next year she was going to take over as the new captain.

Fred and Angelina, Angelina and Fred - suddenly things didn't seem so simple anymore.

***

It was early the next morning when Scarlett re-awoke. Too early, the sky was nothing but a pulsating darkness and she could barely make out the snoring forms of Ginny and Hermione next to her.

It was hopeless, she just couldn't sleep. Nowadays it seemed like there were a plethora of topics that were haunting her: from her newfound interest to Fred, to the reminder of Angelina, not to mention that she hadn't heard from her father since she'd arrived and he'd promised to send a note. It seemed like she never got a moments peace, there was always something to be fretting about.

I can't stay here, Scarlett thought to herself as she gently slipped out of the shared bed and out into the silent, lonely hallway. The main thing she wanted right then, was her dad. And it was a regular feeling she had. Sirius just always helped when it came to boy drama, something about his perspective on life helped Scarlett realise that life's short, and you should have fun when you can.

Not sure where to go, Scarlett found herself drifting down the stairs, pausing lightly outside Fred's door. She couldn't hear anything from within, but part of her just wanted to take a peak. He was no doubt collapsed on his bed, completely at peace as soft breaths fluttered from his lips.

Idiot, Scarlett thought. Of course, she can't just peak in on Fred, it's not like anything had happened between them. And maybe nothing would.

She moved past his door, pushing down the feelings that swelled from her gut. Down and down she went, circling down the creaking stairs, not quite bothering when they moaned with her movement, it's not as though anyone would care to find her drifting around the house at 2 am. Eventually, she circled down to the kitchen, where a broad shadow stood by the pallid windows.

It was him, it may have been George but some part knew that it was him. Somehow she knew she would always recognise him from now on. Fred was leaning over the sink, his head hung low and a half-drunk glass of water resting by his fingertips. It seemed as though he were tormented over something as he drummed a rhythm against the countertop.

"Fred?" Scarlett tried to stop her thudding heart as she edged into the kitchen. He turned around smoothly, greeting her with his familiar lopsided grin.

"Lettie." He whispered in a low voice, husky with what sleep he had already scored.

"You should be asleep."

"So should you." He smiled and Scarlett inched further into the room. Fred was now leaning back against the countertop, his arms wide behind him so that she could observe his full wingspan. Scarlett couldn't help but notice the permanent curve of his body, from his shoulders to hips - it was daringly alluring in a strange way.

"I can't, my mind won't let me rest." Scar whispered, fiddling with the edge of her cropped sweater.

"Scarlett." He eventually whispered into the warm, sweating silence. She tried not to visibly shiver at the sound of her full name fluttering from his lips. "Come here." He didn't move from his stance, didn't shift to open his arms to welcome her nor tilt his head. Fred merely stayed perfectly still and commanded her across the room by his voice alone - and of course, she obliged.

Sucking on a tentative breath, Scarlett padded her way around the kitchen to join him near the cabinets. All the while they never broke eye contact, maintaining that same tension that appeared to be delicately balanced between the two. Compared to the day's overwhelming warmth, the kitchen tiles now felt icy under her socks and a slight chill in the air meant she pulled her cropped sweater a little closer around her arms.

"Are you...sad?" He leaned down and murmured softly, his eyes full of nothing but concern.

"I..." Scarlett's first instinct was to lie. God knows she's spent nearly all her life pushing people away and keeping relationships light and fun. To actually open up to someone, well, she can't say she's ever done that before. "I miss my dad." She eventually decided upon saying, and then immediately braced herself for what was to come next.

"I'm sorry to hear that - it's perfectly valid for you to miss him," Fred said softly, leaning over and fiddling with the tip of her sleeve, an old habit of his, and whilst it was exciting for him to be so close, it only reminded her of the times he had done the same action when they were huddled on the couch of the Gryffindor common room, comforting each other about other people. Scarlett didn't quite know what to say next, it's not as though she had ever made it so far before.

"But I love it here y'know."

"Really?" An excited tone rushed through Fred's voice and his eyes seemed to widen slightly.

"Yeah, of course. Being here with all of you..." She trailed off.

"Well, it has to be said that I think we're all a lot happier with you around." Scarlett was glad it was so dark, she was sure her cheeks were flushed by then.

"Thank you," Scarlett whispered, the words barely audible. And then she looked at him, really looked. Moonlight continued to illuminate his features. His shirt was of pale linen, and it was thin enough that she could make out every shape and contour of his perfectly lean body. A breath fluttered in her throat - how she wished to worship every inch of that freckled flesh with her tongue alone.

At some point, Scarlett made the realisation that as she stood examining him, he appeared to be doing the same with her. Two friends, frozen in the moonlight, unable to do anything but long after the other. It was that moment when she watched as his eyes trailed from her exposed throat down to the small inch of skin visible above her waistband, that she realised he was tormented by that same greedy lust.

"Can I ask you something?" Scarlett whispered in a fleeting moment of confidence.

"Depends, is it personal?"

"I think so."

"Hm," He thought for a moment, "Fine but, you owe me a personal question." He eventually smiled down and her, and Scarlett bit her lip tentatively. Now or never.

"What do you want?" Scarlett whispered back, a question that posed a variety of answers. There was the question of what he wanted right now, at this moment. What he wanted for himself in a few weeks. What he would want by the time the summer heat rolls into autumn's clouds and all of them were once again cast away to the halls of Hogwarts.

"I..." But, of course, there was one right answer. One answer that would pull Scarlett apart as though she were nothing but ribbon and rope held together by a string. One answer that would set off a chain of events, that would be entirely catastrophic, and yet entirely addictive. One answer, one word, and Scarlett knew there would be no turning back.

"You. I want you."

Initially, the kiss was clumsy. It seemed as though both parties reached for one another in a raw, fierce haste, as though they were afraid that the other might disappear or change their mind. Lips crashed together as they both gripped onto each other's clothes in a fierce, desperate hold. And then anxiety wore off, and the pure passion of years of longing was finally able to burst forth.

Fred's fingers almost immediately hooked themselves under the fabric of Scarlett's shirt as they had done the day when he had knocked her from her broom. And with time his hasty grips turned into fluttering of fingertips as he delicately traced circular patterns over her secretive and hidden skin. He was so tall that he seemed to grip her ribcage in order to pull him in against his chest, perhaps so that he just might be able to feel her, all of her, flushed against his body.

On the other hand, Scarlett's fingers tousled themselves into the fiery peaks of his hair, tugging and pulling every once in a while, and earing a low grunt or moan to splutter from Fred's lips into her mouth. Then she would trace her fingers down her neck and across his chest, feeling the tautness of his shirt from where it was pulled tight over the bulge of his chest and shoulders. And with every inch that she lowered her hands down his body, lightly brushing across his toned midriff and slim waist, Fred appeared to twitch and shudder in anticipation.

It was only when she suddenly flickered her cool fingers under the hem of his shirt, brushing along the soft skin that sat just above his boxer line, that Fred audibly gasped into her mouth. Pulling back for just a moment, Scarlett looked at him, really looked at him as though for the first time, and saw a deviant yet desperate glower in his eyes. Almost as though he needed her to go further, and yet couldn't shake his boyish need to take control. Scarlett had no doubt that Fred wanted to be the one making her pant and shudder at that moment, and she found herself smiling coyly at the thought that she had somehow ended up with the upper hand.

"What's wrong Weasley?" One finger dipped under his waistband, and though he didn't break the gaze, Fred's frame twitched. "Finally learnt how to shut up for once." Another finger, and as she spoke she inched closer and closer, flushing the rest of her body against his so she could feel in full his hard length pushing against her lower stomach. "I like you like this Weasley...quiet and, obedient."

This seemed to be where Scarlett pushed her dominance a little too far. Those two dirty little words appeared to awaken a darker edge in Fred's eye. Suddenly he was shifting to the side whilst simultaneously finding a grip on her wrists. Unable to turn around, Scarlett now found herself facing the cabinets and pushed up against the countertop, whilst Fred positioned himself behind her, holding her wrist in one hand, and her throat with the other.

"Quiet and obedient?" Fred's voices husked in her ear, low and playful. He tilted his chin in towards the crook of her neck and nuzzled into the sensitive corner of flesh, and soon Scarlett could feel each breath flutter from his lips and brush against her neck. The grip on her wrist kept her right arm low by her side, whilst the other was left to hold onto the arm that was holding onto her neck. She wished she could see the look in his eye, wished she could see the smirk that was no doubt toying across his lips. He had Scarlett Black pinned face-first against the cabinets, of course he was loving it.

"I'll make you a deal Black," Fred muttered, his voice lower than she had ever heard it before, a sweet mingling of lust and sleep. "If you can stay quiet for me then maybe, later, I'll be obedient for you." Fred then moved so that he was once again fully flushed against her and Scarlett couldn't help but gasp as she felt that hard length push against her lower back. "How does that sound, Lettie?" He whispered back into the crook of her neck before he lowered his lips to the exposed flesh that lay there.

Scarlett couldn't help but allow a fluttering of gasps to dance from her lips as Fred began to suck and brush on that sensitive strip of skin. And then the hand that was resting around her throat came to a stop at her chin.

"Quiet, Lettie, you have to be quiet for me." Fred husked, and then he gently tucked one of his fingers into her mouth before he returned to his artwork. At some point, he let go of her right wrist in order to brush some of her hair away from her shoulder so that he may continue peppering an ecstasy of brushes, strokes and kisses along that curve of her body. "Off" he then muttered. And in a stunningly short space of time, both Fred and Scarlett had managed to rip the moth-bitten sweater over her head to reveal the plain white tank she had thrown on earlier.

Almost as though the small break had never occurred, Fred settled back into his position of one hand stroking away the hair on her neck and the other now tucking two fingers into Scarlett's mouth. And then he was inching the strap of her tank top down her shoulder, the fabric leaving a trail of goosebumps as it shuddered to the side. And there, waiting for Fred's lips, was the flowering bruise he had inflicted upon her only a few days ago.

"I hate this." He murmured as he began to worship the bruised flesh. "I hate that I hurt you." He continued to kiss and kiss, barely lifting his lips as he spoke. "I hate how good you look when you're bruised." The fingers in Scarlett's mouth flexed for just a moment. "I hate what it does to me, seeing you walk around, with my mark on your skin. I hate how proud I am, how possessive I get." His fingers left the strap of her shirt and now fluttered down to the bare skin above her waistband, and he slowly began tracing that same circular pattern on the exposed flesh that lay there. "If only you knew, Lettie, the terrible things you make me think."

Scarlett wanted to speak, but the fingers in her mouth prevented any coherent sentence. Instead, she merely wrapped her lips around the base of the fingers, taking them all the way to the back of her throat. As she did so, some spit dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin, and she couldn't help but shift into his chest in her ache for the fingers to be something else entirely.

"I'm supposed to be good Lettie," One finger dipped below her waistband as Fred appeared to mirror what she had done to him only minutes before. "I am good Lettie, I promise." Another finger under her waistband and the two managed to find the lacy edge of Scarlett's underwear. "You just...change things for me. I can't think clearly when you're around. Do you know how frustrating that is?"

Slowly, Fred pulled his fingers exaggeratedly out of Scarlett's mouth, and she was able to twist around and look at him over her shoulder just in time for her to see Fred smirk lazily at her before putting those same two fingers on his own tongue and sucking till his cheeks hollowed.

"I never knew." Scarlett found herself whispering, knowing that her mouth was no doubt covered in a gloss of her own spit. She was referring to a lot of things then - she had never known this side of Fred, this seemingly dark and unexplored person that must've always been there. She'd never known that after all these stupid, wasted years, Fred had at some point returned her longing feelings. Scarlett had never known that Fred could be so...but what could she expect, she herself had seen each girl lazily drift in and out of Fred's life, exchanging for someone new before Scarlett even had enough time to remember their names. Of course, he knew how to love, how to push her buttons so precisely.

"How long has this been here?" Fred responded in a moment of sobriety, and Scarlett was able to fully turn and once more found herself inches away from that beautiful, marked face.

"A long time," Scarlett whispered. It was a discovery she herself had only made the other day, that heavy air between Fred and her. It wasn't quite love, rather a potential for it.

"Too long." Fred agreed, and a familiar boyish grin flickered over his features, and at that moment Scarlett understood how the dark-minded boy in front of her was still entirely the Fred she had always known. They were the same person, and this just seemed to flare her infatuation.

Suddenly, a series of loud thuds erupted from above them, somewhere in the upper levels of the home. It must've only been someone tripping on their way to the bathroom but it was enough for Fred and Scarlett to jump away from one another. In that moment of sobriety, as the noise passed into still silence, the two realised what they'd just done a series of things became perfectly clear.

One, neither Fred nor Scarlett appeared to want anyone else to figure out about this infatuation. Two, both of them appeared slightly hurt that the other was feeling such a way. Three, it was done. They were well past the point of change, they had chosen a path and there was no turning back. And standing there in that cold kitchen, where the moon was the only way to see one another, they both understood that what was to happen was to happen, and there was nothing they could do about it.

"We should probably..."

"Yeah-" Fred sighed, but his boyish smirk returned. As he spoke he stretched an arm behind his head to scratch as his neck, and as he did so he displayed the full extent of his swollen arms, barely bound by his white linen shirt.

Reaching down to pick up her sweater, Scarlett proceeded to pad her way to the door, unable to think of anything but what could've happened here in this kitchen had that singular distraction not occurred. It was almost as though every step towards the door was torture, as though every fibre of her being was screaming at her to turn around and rip him apart. To take him to the very peak of ecstasy of pleasure, and ride the rest of the night on the high of knowing that she could bring him to such a feeling. And yet she continued to walk away, and with every step she felt Fred's eyes on her, watching her leave.

"Goodnight, Fred." She couldn't help but whisper over her shoulder as she stood in the lip between hallway and door. The purgatory between sin and pain.

"Goodnight, Scarlett." He said, making no move from his place on the kitchen tiles. And with that Scarlett found herself creaking back up the endless stairs of the Weasley Bungalow, retreating back to the safe space she shared with Ginny and Hermione, and the promise of purity and chastity that came with it.

Tonight was not the night. But even she knew as she rose higher and higher, that 'the night' was now inevitable. There would be nothing to stop this collision, all she could do now was watch, and hope no one got hurt along the way.

10 notes · View notes