Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

Honesty

The next day, I'm quickly packing my things in Defense Against the Dark Arts- my last period of the day- admittedly eager to leave class.

Blaise watches me hastily shove my books into my bag with one eyebrow cocked. "You're in a hurry."

I look at him, pausing. "Am I?"

"It's as if this room is slowly filling with poisonous gas, and only you know," he replies.

I laugh. "I just have plans."

"Plans?" he raises his eyebrows. "How intriguing."

A moment later, he's slipped off with a couple of other Slytherin blokes, and I'm about to do the same when I run into Lupin on the way to the door, him having been speaking to one of my peers on the way out.

"Whoah, there," he chuckles at our near-bump. "Someone's hasty. I didn't think my class was all that unbearable."

I smile, shaking my head. "Not at all, sir."

"Don't think I didn't notice you tapping your quill today, Miss Carter," he teases. "Have you got a packed schedule?"

"I just have plans, is all," I reply, hitching my bag higher on my shoulder.

"Ah." His eyebrows raise. "This wouldn't have to do with our conversation last night?"

He looks half-amused, half-interested. I chuckle nervously, rubbing my neck.

"Erm, well..."

"Not that it matters," he says quickly. "I don't mean to pry. None of my business. But- well, do have fun. I did mean what I said, though."

My mind flickers back to his words last night. Does he treat you well?

I smile appreciatively- now that I'm not in a humiliating state of stammering messiness, it was kind of sweet of him to say. "Of course, Professor. I know you did."

"Very good," he nods. "Off you go, then."

After dropping my bag at the dorm and grabbing my coat and gloves, I head out onto the grounds where light snow is sprinkling down over the rolling hills in the distance. The castle is frosted with white, the younger kids playing in the snow and the upperclassmen scattered about, talking and laughing, a few couples kissing.

It's interesting seeing that, now. I don't have that reluctant feeling of I wish nagging in the back of my head.

And, to be honest, as I'm walking past those various couples, all I can think about is how the bloke I'm snogging is so much better than them. I don't know, it's stupid. It kind of makes me laugh.

I've almost reached the hill heading down to the forest when I suddenly feel a soft lump of snow pelt into my back.

Startled, I turn, scanning my eyes around until they land on a grinning Fred Weasley, dressed in a winter coat and beanie, peeking out from behind one of the courtyard's columns.

My eyes narrow and a smile of betrayal spreads across my face.

"Oh, you arsehole!"

Scampering through the snow to get to him, I watch him throw his head back in a laugh and scramble to escape, but he's already close by and his fate has been sealed.

Almost to the column, I quickly scoop up a tuft of snow from the ground and shape it in my hands while still running to him, and he's holding up his hands in innocent defense and pleading, "please, no, have mercy, please!" but I'm already smirking and initiating the attack.

The snowball hits his stomach- as if it would do any damage to the sure brick wall muscle I'm picturing down there- and he lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his stomach, and falling back onto the snow as if he's in a Shakespearean tragedy.