Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

The Morning After

Fuck.

I'm now recalling why I don't drink.

I groan and roll onto my side on my bed, my head pounding. When I turn on the mattress, my vision goes spotty for a second, and I tightly shut my eyes and bury my aching head under the covers.

My stomach makes a weird noise and I scold myself for the millionth time since waking up about five seconds ago.

I'm dizzy and light-headed, and I have a stabbing pain in my temples, and my stomach is churning and I hate every second of this and I want to go back in time and punch myself in the crotch. Boys think it never hurts as much for women to be hit there, and that's true, but it still hurts like a bitch, so I want to aim right there and punish myself for my wrongdoings.

I force myself to slowly sit up in bed, making sure to not vomit due to the dizziness, and eventually find stable ground when I'm upright. God, why is it so bright? Who allowed the sun to burn into my eyes like this? No one else is in the dorm, and I'm assuming they've gone down to breakfast because when I look at the clock on my nightstand it's 10:13 in the morning on a bright and sunny Saturday.

I am not feeling bright and sunny.

I rub my eyes and mutter a lot of phrases like "you're an idiot" and "fuck you and everything you stand for, Jolie Carter" before I sigh and twist to stand up from my bed.

I am suddenly very, very thirsty.

I make my way to the bathroom (clumsily at that) and cling my hands to the porcelain sink, where I find an empty cup on the edge. I grab it and quickly fill it up, and once it touches my lips, it's like I've been stranded in a desert for three days.

I gulp it down, coming up for air only when there's not a drop left in the glass. Putting it back onto the corner of the sink, I look up at myself in the mirror for the first time.

"Jesus Christ," I blurt out.

My hair is a mess; it's all over my head like I've been electrocuted, and mascara is smudged beneath my eyes that are sporting heavy bags.

Not to mention that I fell asleep in the same clothes I wore to the party. Appetizing.

I think I remember most of the night; I didn't get blackout drunk, after all. I just had far too much for myself to handle.

I remember storming away from that disgusting boy from my grade who eyed me up and down and claimed that he wanted to "cross it off his bucket list". I remember pounding back about four shots of whiskey before seeing Fred next to me. I remember what happened when his friends nearly saw us dancing together.

God forbid he dances with a girl like me.

I mean, who knows what happens if you even willingly lay a finger on someone who looks like this... someone's who's apparently just... untouchable.

I scoff under my breath, still pissed even in my condition, because... well, seriously?

I ignore it and decide to focus on bettering myself for the day. After all, I am miserable at the moment, and men are the least of my concerns.

I freshen myself up by pulling on new clothes (nearly vomiting in the toilet) and brushing my teeth, as well as pulling my hair back into a ponytail to hide the fact that it's untamable right now. I apply some concealer under my eyes and consider putting on sunglasses to block out the harsh light torturing me at the moment, but it would be way too obvious that I'm hungover and way too cliché.

So I force myself to deal with it and leave my dorm, inhaling unsteadily and trying to figure out what food to eat that won't make me puke it back up.

Once at the dining hall, I keep my head low, my eyes focused on the floor, and my hands picking at a nail as if I'm intently focused on that task.