Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

Distracted

Sleep's not that important.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.

I have two hands over my mouth. The mouth that he was just fucking devouring. I mean, I was against the wall. I was against the fucking wall.

I turn on my side, tugging my comforter up to my nose to stifle a demonic giggle of disbelief. Like, what the hell? What just happened?

He had his hands on me. Fred fucking Weasley. Fred the heartthrob Weasley. Fred the Quidditch beater Weasley. Fred my friend Weasley.

I just made out with that. How do I sleep after that?

Even the girls snoring in the beds around me don't bother me.

Okay, well, here's the thing. If I'm awake, I might as well break down what I'm thinking at the moment. There's a lot.

One.

Less than an hour ago, I was never considering making out with one of my best friends.

Two.

Less than an hour ago, I made out with one of my best friends.

Three.

Said best friend is very good at kissing.

Four.

Said best friend smells like firewood and likes putting his hands in my hair.

Five.

Said best friend has made things very overwhelming, because said best friend is suddenly very, very sexy.

I can't. Fucking. Sleep.

Tossing and turning, tossing and turning, I try to keep my eyes shut for more than five seconds. But every time I do, I see that crooked smile, and I hear his voice, and I see him reaching to me to take my chin and leaning in and holy fuck it's December, why is it a goddamn toaster oven in here?

I wake up the following morning feeling surprisingly un-tired despite having gotten maybe six hours of sleep.

I don't even think I can eat. Will it come back up? My stomach is in flips and turns. I've pulled my hair back into that ponytail Draco did at the party. I keep nervously pushing my glasses up. Draco repeatedly asks me to stop bouncing my fork off of the edge of my plate as if I'm "plugged into an electric circuit".

When I turn for the fourth time to check the archway to the Great Hall, he's walking through.

George is laughing at something Fred is saying as the two stroll in, hands in pockets and casual grins on their faces. Oh, god. What if he told his brother? Did he tell him right after? Is that how twins work?

I watch their mouths moving as they approach the Gryffindor table for breakfast before class, imagining their possible dialogue. Guess what, bro? I tongued Jolie Carter last night while you were sawing logs! Yeah, my good friend, I sucked face with that one in the ponytail, right over there!

I force myself to look back at my plate, trying to stop the heat rising in my cheeks, and don't allow myself to turn around and look at him across the hall for the next five minutes.

About five minutes later, Angelina is coming up behind me to sit down with Draco and I. She drops a small, folded note in front of me by my plate.

"Morning," she greets Draco and me. "Oh, that's for you, Jo. Fred sent it with me."