𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

About time | Fred Weasley

I pulled my trunk into the compartment, setting down my bag and book on a seat, while I tried desperately to hieve the large luggage into the space above the seats.

Shortly after I had entered, my best friends Fred and George followed, easily lifting their stuff up and into the space. I huffed, standing on tiptoes. Fred laughed:
"Do you need help, Y/n/n?"
He reached up from behind me, pressing his chest against my back and lifting the trunk out of my grasp and into the luggage rack.

I tried hiding the crimson blush on my cheeks, turning from the twins and fussing over my backpack and book instead. I met George's eye for a split second who smirked cheekily and jerked his head at Fred, who was busy pulling out pen and paper. I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head slightly.

A little while later, I was reading by the window, legs stretched out over two seats while the two identical red-heads scribbled away on their parchment. They were definitely not doing homework, I knew that as a fact because first of all, they had copied from me before we got here and the heading read 'Pranks'.

I was deeply immersed in my book, forgetting I was on the train until someone saying my name brought me back to the compartment.
"Y/n, I'm gonna go see where Angelina is, do you wanna come?" It was George.
"No thanks, I'll stay here." I said, holding up my book.
"Suit yourself." He said, smirking agin, his eyes flickering towards Fred.
I looked at him annoyed, Fred didn't know that I liked him and as much as I wanted him to know, I was certain he liked someone else.
"Bye Freddie, bye Y/n."
I smiled, though turning back to my book as soon as the door had slid shut again.

For about a half an hour there was utter silence. I was reading and Fred was-
What was Fred doing? I looked up from my book to see his eyes flicker from me to a little book in his hands, a quill poised in his hand.
"Whatcha writing?" I asked, pushing back a lose strand of hair which had fallen into my face.
"Oh just my diary." He muttered embarrassed.
"I didn't know you had a diary," I said, looking over at him, "For how long have you been-?"
"Two or three years since..." His voice trailed off and after a small while he began his work again while I continued reading.
Since what?

An hour later, George had still not returned and the compartment was in loudest silence I had ever heard. I glanced up from my book, letting my eyes roam the space before letting them settle on the tall figure of Fred. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, a white shirt through which I could see his subtle abs and over that, an unbuttoned shirt with brown checks.
He was immersed in a piece of parchment, biting his bottom lip and running his long fingers through his flaming hair. I was so concentrated on the  small movements he was making that I didn't realise he was watching the whole time.
"Like what you see?" He chuckled, placing the parchment on th seat beside him and smirking at me.
"What? No- I was just...just..." My voice trailed off as he slowly moved out of his seat, lifting himself from his arms, flexing the muscles he had gained from playing Quidditch for five years.
I watched him as he moved towards me, turning my head when he was right next to me. He was leaning over me, his towering figure and messy red hair giving the illusion of superiority. The illusion.

Fred leaned forward, his eyes were directly before mine and it was impossible for me to turn away from him as one of his hands lifted my chin, the other holding him up on the seat as he hovered above me. My breathing quickened, my eyes transfixed on his caramel ones.

Suddenly I felt his lips against mine. They were warm and soft. I was so surprised that I didn't kiss back for a second, then I buried my fingers on hos hair, moving my lips against his.
He moved his hands to my waist, pulling me closer to him, not breaking the contact.

Then there was a loud cough and from behind Fred, where the door was, the voice of his twin sounded.
"About time," He said, watching as we broke apart and faced him, hair messy and lips swollen and red, "Urgh, get a room."
I giggled, pecking Fred's lips again, just for the sake of annoying George and interlocking our fingers, pulling him down to sit beside me.
Good that George didn't come back for so long, otherwise this would never have happened. Or would it?

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Word count: 823