Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

She's with Him

I don't really remember when I finally fell asleep after the party.

I was too busy lying awake, smiling goofily to myself and shaking my head at the ceiling over and over because oh my god, so much happened. So much happened.

Not only am I Fred's girlfriend, but I am no longer Jo Carter the virgin. I am just Jo Carter. Well, not like anyone called me "the virgin", because that would be really strange and pretty fucked up, but I called myself that, and now I don't have to.

I had sex with my boyfriend. That's why. And he's my boyfriend. Did I mention that? I can say that now. Holy shit.

And a whole lot of people know. Oh boy.

So by the time the next morning hits, a grey Saturday (that's sunny for a lot of other reasons, if I'm being cheesy), I'm still smiling, and I'm eager to leave the dorm. I slept late after finally dozing off, so there's surely a lot of people already at breakfast.

I pull on a hoodie (and cover a couple of marks my boyfriend generously left on my neck last night) before running a brush through my hair and slipping on some bleached jeans- the ones I got at an old second-hand store over the summer.

But when I glance in the mirror, pushing up my glasses, I have second thoughts- should I be dressing up? Looking good? He looks good all the time, so cool, so casual, and he's so bloody popular that he has to be, and now this kid has a girlfriend, and his girlfriend is Jo Carter.

People will be looking at me, even more than usual. Fuck. Do I put on something... nicer?

I huff, shaking my head at my own reflection. No. I won't. I don't care. I have to start not caring as much. I'm Jo Carter- they'll be looking anyways. What I wear won't make a difference.

All that matters is that I say good morning to him, and he says it back.

On the way to breakfast, I may have subconsciously taken the route closer to the Gryffindor stairs, and on that way, I am bombarded by a tall ginger in a red sweater.

After he finally pulls away, the taste of his toothpaste lingering on my mouth, I grin at him- "well, that's one way to say 'good morning.' Classy."

"Good morning," he grins back. "I see you took a particular route to breakfast today?"

I turn to start walking and he falls into step beside me. "Who says you had any influence on that? Maybe I just have a Saturday meeting with the portraits. We discuss fine arts and cuisine."

He chuckles. "How could I forget?"

I feel his hand take mine between us and fight a really dorky smile. Fuck. I am feeling a whole lot of things right now.

I glance at him. "I gotta admit— I'm surprised to see you alone in the corridors and not in your army of goons."

"Excuse me, but those 'goons' are distinguished young gents," he replies. "And I snuck out. They wouldn't leave me alone last night before bed. Nosy bastards."

I laugh. "What do you mean?"

"Well, after the party, they had a million questions, and a million more, and then a million jokes to make," he sighed, making me blush. The memories and feelings of last night are still very , very fresh. "A lot of them surrounded the concept of me being a 'settled man', and a 'dutiful housewife'."

I bark out a laugh. "So, what, you're some big player without me?"

"No!" He defends in a panic, making me smile. "I just— I think they know this is different. More serious."