the prince - f.weasley

- c h a p t e r - f o u r -

    Gemma didn't even pull off her robes but got right to work, setting aside pre-ordered boxes and stacking the different box combos on the shelves before pulling out the single potion bottles and setting those up in neat lines on the middle shelf.

She wasn't how she did it–but everything was sorted and decorated in under thirty minutes–giving her lots of time to spare.

Stepping back, Gemma surveyed her work with a smile–readjusting some of the coloured lights on the edges of the shelves–which reflected off the bottles, making them look like they were glowing–before nodding, "Perfect..."

"Yes you are..."

Gemma felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as someone wrapped their arms around her shoulders, pulling her gently to them.

Her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, was everything she could ask for. He had been there through everything that had been thrown at her. From bad study nights to getting banned from Quidditch to having a positive werewolf gene, to learning who had killed her mum–just all of it. He had been her best friend while also being her boyfriend–which made it even better and made him more awesome.

Even though he was an idiot and sometimes a whole ass, Gemma Adeline Lupin was undoubtedly in love with Frederick Gideon Weasley.

She kissed his knuckles and murmured, "Far from it–but the closest you're ever gonna get."

He snickered as he kissed her temple and peered at her setup with a hum, "It's missing something..."

Gemma turned to give him a look, "What could it possibly be missing?"

Fred pulled his wand out–and magically, a framed image of Gemma appeared.

It was a picture of her during one of her visits that summer. She had been doing something–probably reading the orders she needed to fill–but had fallen asleep on Fred's bed–dressed in a pair of sweatpants and one of Fred's jumpers–Scotch curled up under her arm with her head resting on her arm and a pillow. She looked exhausted but peaceful, laying there on her side–the sun coming in through the window, making the dust in the air look like glittering dust as the portrait moved.

Gemma felt her cheeks redden as she murmured, "Maybe not that one..."

"Yeah, that one is too personal," Fred agreed and waved his wand again. "Now, this one is perfect!"

Gemma guffawed at the portrait that had been taken by the Hogwarts school paper photographer, "That is a wretched picture!"

Right before Gemma had been banned from Quidditch last year by the Wicked Bitch of the East, the paper had done a column on the team–and apparently, they had talked to Angelica about future plans for the team.

She had told them that Gemma was being trained for the position of captain–and as she got off her broom, face red from the wind and hair just absolutely atrocious, they snapped a moving picture of her laughing like an idiot at Fred and George who had just tripped on air behind her.

How Fred got the picture–she didn't know–but staring at it made her stomach twist in a weird way.

And she knew why.

No matter how much she healed and grew up–Gemma would never be the same girl she was in that picture.

Pushing away those depressing thoughts, Gemma nodded, "That one's perfect."

"That's what I was thinking," Fred teased her, tucking it next to the plaque with the cute blocky lettering that read, Cricket's Crazy Colourful Concoctions. "Now it's perfect."