Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

Reckless Behavior

I munch on another chocolate frog and tiredly watch Angelina pull the box back, looking at me sympathetically.

"This is shit," she tells me. "I'm not going to lie to you- this is shit. But it's total bullshit."

I sigh. We're sprawled across the loveseat couch in the lounge section of the library, aka a couple of couches in one of the closed-off book nooks. Because she is the best, Angelina took Draco and dragged him on a trek to Hogsmeade in mid-November to get me two boxes of Honeydukes chocolate frogs after this morning, when I told her about Tommy's big surprise last night.

I glance out to the general area of the library, remembering that moment. "Yeah. But I can't say I'm surprised."

"Why can't you? And if you say what I think you're gonna say, I'm going to hit you."

I look at her, cocking my head. "I mean, come on, Ang... look at this."

When my hands vaguely motion to myself, she shoves my leg with her foot.

"Ow!"

"You deserved that," she says. "But you didn't deserve the shit that arse-wipe Dankworth pulled on you. So don't talk about yourself like you're one of those clowns without a brain cell in their over-gelled hair."

I smile weakly, appreciating her, but still feeling like total shit. She can tell because she hands me the chocolate frogs and uses that newly-freed hand to pat the side of my leg. I hang my head back, groaning.

"Why is it that I'm just a joke?" I finally say to the ceiling. "Why is it that when anything that seems different, or new, or finally advantageous for me, it's all bullshit?"

She doesn't respond- she just listens.

It helps. Somehow, it helps. I think I just need someone to listen.

I level my head, looking at her again. "It's always been this way. It's always going to be this way. It's a joke to be into Jo Carter. It's a joke to ever flirt with her, to dance with her... I'm just- untouchable."

I look down, picking at the throw blanket we've tossed over our entangled legs. Angelina sighs with me.

"You're not, Jo," she says after a long moment. "You're incredible, and you're fucking gorgeous, and there's going to be twats out there who don't know what they're saying because they just hate themselves. You have to know that."

I swallow, something stinging my throat. "Still."

"No," she says. "No 'still'. No 'buts'. I know, it's absolute bullshit, like I said. But you are not untouchable, and you will never be. School is shit, people are shit, being a teenager is shit. But you know what you can do as a teenager?"

I look up at her through my lashes. She starts to smirk.

"Reckless behavior," she says, "and delicious, delicious revenge."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

At 12:03, I'm sitting in the Three Broomsticks, hands folded on the table, my eyes idly focused on the pattern of the wood beneath me.

The pub is bustling around me, friends in booths, couples kissing in the corners, and laughter being shared over dripping mugs of butterbeer. It's frosty outside- December is coming. I'm not paying much attention to the frost outside of the windows; I'm more so keeping my eye out for my date.

My smile is ready. My charmed eyes are locked and loaded. After all, I have a lovely date with the Tommy Dankworth. I can't wait.

The question is... will he show up? He did say he'd pull something off, didn't he? Looks like we have something in common.