AMOR FATI . . . fred weasley

III. BE MY (ACCIDENTAL) VALENTINE?

12th february 1996 (5:05 pm!)

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

JOEY'S ON THE QUIDDITCH PITCH when he pops the question.

She's trying helplessly to explain to her cocky fifth-year Beaters, Martha Meadow and Angus Grassie, that no, they can't hurl Bludgers at Slytherins whenever they fancy. Surprise surprise, it's not going well!

    It's made even worse (read: better), when she hears that familiar clearing of a throat, the way he does it when he's gagging for attention, and she cartwheels in the air to see Fred leaning lazily against the stands.

    'Oi, Joeypoos!' he calls upwards, voice drifting like a petal on the stinging February wind. 'Come down for a sec, will you?'

    Joey ignores the sniggering of Martha, who is twirling a strand of long purple hair around a ringed finger, and seems to be very amused by this whole absolutely-not-amusing ordeal.

    'Freddie, I'm trying to practise,' she hisses, although she can't keep the excitement of seeing him from her tone. Merlin's mismatched socks, why does she have to be such a pathetic sap!

    'We're trying to practise, Weasley,' comes Zacharias Smith's voice, all sarcastic and cross in a way that Joey does not appreciate. Ugh, she dislikes him. She dislikes him more than she dislikes people who don't believe in astrology - and that's saying something!

    (Come to think of it, Zacharias Smith definitely does not like astrology. Ew!)

    'Fuck off, Smith,' Fred yells brightly, as he's clambering up the stands to meet her halfway.

    'You can't just tell members of my team to flip off, Freddie,' Joey says with her terrible, terrible attempt at crossness, soaring down to meet him.

    'Funny that, 'cause I swear I just did.' He leans back against the row of seats, both hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, epitome of cool. 'Listen, Joeypoos. D'you wanna - wanna go into Hogsmeade with me on Sunday?'

    Of course. Joey almost had the absolute audacity to forget there was a Hogsmeade visit this weekend, she should be ashamed! She's so excited. She thinks of all the Fudge Flies she'll buy from Honeydukes... she should really get a discount by now, surely?

    She beams. 'Of course I will, you banana-head! We go in together anyways, don't we? Georgie'll come too, right? And Lee, ooo, maybe we can persuade Lola if we tell her tha-'

    'Johannah,' he says, cutting her off with an eye roll. She can't help thinking it's weird how the tips of his ears have blushed magenta, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Almost like he's... nervous? Surely not, it's just Hogsmeade!

    'Yes, my love?'

    'You do know what Sunday is, right?'

    'It's... the seventh day of the week, and it's ruled by the sun, duh!'

    He scoffs. 'Yeah, but this Sunday, you donkey. Joeypoos, what's this Sunday?'

    And then it hits her: Valentine's Day.

    Holy flipping pancakes!

    Joey's aware she must just be standing there like a plum, blushing harder than anyone's ever blushed in the history of blushing, mouth opening and closing like a gormless goldfish. (No offence to goldfish, she's sure they're very lovely creatures!) All the while Fred is just smirking down at her, before turning and striding back to the castle, without saying anything once.