anchor || fred weasley

chapter eight- felicity

~song of the chapter: sway-michael buble~

Peace. Quiet. Sun on her face. With eyes at rest she felt her centre and lives happily within herself for these blessed moments of felicity.

"Shit!"
Blaire opened her eyes only to see Fred search for his clothes and race to the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and yawned. She had slept well tonight, and that was a rarity. Suddenly, her mind wrapped around the fact that she had classes today.

"Fred!", she screamed and sat up, searching for a clock. That was something he didn't seem to possess.
"What?", yelled a muffled voice behind the bathroom door.
"What time is it?"
The door opened a few inches and Fred poked his head through the slit. "Time for Quidditch practice. And bloody hell, am I late. Oliver is gonna kill me. I would've let you sleep but now that you're up, wanna take a shower?"
He suddenly had the biggest smirk on his face.
"You wish, Weasley."

The door closed again and a few minutes later, he came back out.
Without clothes.
The only thing covering his body was a towel which was lazily tied below his hips.
"Fred", she sighed. Not again.
"What in Merlins name do you think you're doing?" The girl turned away.
"Just forgot my shirt, no big deal, Sandrins"
"Idiot", Blaire mumbled. She hated how good he looked.

The water dripped down his wet hair softly, and the drops slowly made their way to his body and toned abs. He slicked a strand of his hair back with a smirk, examining her closely. His freckles were golden in the warm morning light and his eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"Oh, and it's only 7. You've got more than enough time. I'm not that asshole who drags you to his room and then makes you forget classes."
"Yeah, you're the one who forgets them.", she chuckled.
"Oh, yeah, you're so funny." Blaire could almost smell the sarcasm.
"I mean, I did prank you so hard last night that you were screaming at me."
"Confident now, are we? It's on, Sandrins. Better watch your back from now on."
His words went straight to her core. Her breath quickened and she tried to hide her now pink cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fred left in a hurry, slamming the door and making a portrait on his wall shake.
Quidditch, Blaire thought. She had never considered joining the Ravenclaw team but something about it had always piqued her interest. She didn't know too much about it but had always enjoyed watching the teams fight for the win. Ambition was something Blaire found weirdly attractive, and when she pictured Fred on his broom swinging his bat to-

"Wait." Blaire turned around, only to see the bat still lying on his table. She scoffed. 

This is his fault. His own fault. I'm not gonna be his little errand boy that fixes situations for him.
But he was late. Oliver is probably gonna be pissed at him for this.
No! Why are you even thinking about this? It's his problem, not yours.

So she decided to leave it there.
Not wanting to be too intrusive, Blaire left the dormitory shortly after Fred did and strolled through the castle, her destination being her own dorm. As most of the students were still sleeping, she didn't have an uncomfortable run-in with anybody in the Gryffindor common room.

After getting dressed, she still had a little time left in which she decided to write. It brought her a feeling nothing else could ever compare to. The words consumed her and even though she couldn't perfectly transfer her thoughts onto the parchment, it still left her feeling satisfied.

She was lying on her bed, her head resting on Fred's shirt which was still smelling like him. Blaire closed her eyes and thought back to last night. Although she had every right to be mad at him, she wasn't. Not even in the slightest bit.