Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

Up the Tempo

"So, you're meeting with Lupin... right now?" Angelina asks me.

We're sitting at one of the round tables in the courtyard, the September sun beaming down on the grounds as I slump my cheek into my hand. Angelina has a Virginia Wolff novel face-down on the tabletop, having paused her reading when I sat down about five minutes ago.

"Imminently, yes," I sigh.

"I don't get it," she says. "It's only the second day of the first week... what exactly do you need from him?"

I look at her, biting the inside of my cheek.

Then, after looking at her for a moment, I realize that Angelina is not the person to judge anyone as long as they're not wildly sexist, unbelievably stupid, or unable to distinguish between "their" and "they're".

I suck in a breath and end up briefly summarizing my problem. The problem that's causing me to go to Lupin in about five minutes.

"Oh," she says plainly. "I see."

"Yeah, it's embarrassing as all hell, but..." I say, "...I can't graduate without having faced it. You know? It's... something I have to do."

"It's not embarrassing," she tells me flatly. "Jo, look at me. It's not embarrassing."

I do look at her. Angelina has a very stern way of talking. Her voice is quite flat, and firm, never a very heartwarming, gentle tone to it; it's low and sharp and quick and she means every word she says. I like that about her.

"You know what's embarrassing?" Draco has approached the table and is now swinging a leg over the table's attached bench, huffing and throwing his bookbag down. "How poor my decision-making skills can be."

"Which decision are you referring to?" Angelina says, earning a look from the clearly flustered boy.

"I just walked past Harry and he almost ran into a wall," Draco mumbles.

I let out a laugh that's surprisingly loud; a pleased laugh.

"Shut up," Draco groans.

"Oh, the decision you made about making out with him three days ago?" Angelina smiles sweetly. "No, we're thoroughly enjoying that."

"Sure, sure, it's a laugh for the two of you," Draco says.

"How often have these little looks and painstakingly awkward encounters happened in the past few days?" I ask him.

"Too often," Draco answers into his arms; his head is now located there.

"Just grow a pair and admit that you fancy him." Angelina picks up her book again.

"I don't, though!" Draco snaps, flinging himself out of his arms. "I don't!"

"Maybe if he keeps saying it, it'll become true," I whisper to Angelina, who grins at me over her book.

"I'm not lying," he insists. "I don't fancy him. I just... we happened to... connect our mouths... twice. The first time was when we were both wasted-"

"-but you hooked up-"

"-and we didn't- wait... what?" Draco says, looking at me after my interruption.

"You said you hooked up," I shrug. "That means the two of you decided to go all the way that night, even if you were wasted. Still means something, whether you like it or not."

Draco visibly gulps.

"No, it doesn't," he says calmly. "Because alcohol affects judgment."

"But you two were never too fond of each other before that, huh?" Angelina turns a page in her book, half-listening, half-reading. "I mean... that's what I heard around. I don't know why, though..."