Golden Boy

8. Firewhisky

Over the next few days, it felt like Fred and Camellia couldn't find a single moment alone together. With the Weasley parents home, the commotion in the house was so constant that it would've been way too risky to try anything.

After their wild night in the spare bedroom, Camellia had woken up in Fred's arms, which would have been fine- except that the rest of the house had already started waking up. This led to frantic dressing and painfully denying themselves a morning fuck, along with several hastily-invented excuses for why they were missing from their beds last night.

Luckily, the boys didn't know Camellia was gone and the girls didn't know about Fred being gone as well, so it didn't raise too much suspicion. That is, they hoped it didn't- there was no telling what George and Hermione might've spoken about behind their backs.

But even more irritating than dealing with the possibility of being found out was keeping themselves away from each other. Messing around before had been thrilling, but now, things were different. They'd gone all the way for the first time together that night, and as badly as Camellia thought she wanted him before, that was nothing compared to now.

It was like all she could think about was getting him alone again... hearing his guttural groans as he thrusted into her, his hands gripping the sheets, the feeling of him so deep inside her...it was too much to bear.

And Camellia knew he was feeling the same way.
Fred Weasley was not known for his maturity or impulse control, and that definitely came out during their dry spell. He'd mess with her in subtle ways - whether that was grabbing her ass as he passed by behind her, leaning over and whispering dirty things in her ear when no one was looking, or just bothering her more in front of the others- it was driving her mad.

It had been four days since they'd been together.
The midday sun shone through the windows as the whole house was packed into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around making their lunch, with the help of Camellia and Hermione, but the rest of the group was being supremely unhelpful.

Mr. Weasley was in a lively conversation with Harry about Muggle computers over by the sink, and the Weasley siblings were all crowded around the kitchen island. Ron and Ginny were watching the twins taking turns breaking and repairing a china platter as fast as they could - a game that, while perhaps hilarious, was extremely loud.

"-so this 'Google', it helps them find information and pictures of cats?" Mr. Weasley was asking, completely fascinated.

"Yeah, pretty much anything they want, really, as long as they search for it-"

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Ron and Ginny were chanting over the ear-splitting sound of the platter shattering over and over. Fred and George were laughing hysterically as they yelled, "Diffindo!" and "Reparo!" intermittently.

All of that, plus the chatter of Hermione and Camellia's conversation as they chopped vegetables, must've been too much for poor Mrs. Weasley. She suddenly slammed her wand on the counter, the meat she was dicing falling from its place in midair onto the cutting board below.

"RIGHT!" she boomed, turning around to face the open kitchen. "You lot! If you're not helping, which none of you are, you can take your noise elsewhere!"

The commotion had suddenly ceased, as if they'd all collectively gone mute. There was a horribly tense silence where Mrs. Weasley stared them all down with such anger that smoke should've been rising from her nostrils, and Camellia and Hermione glanced at each other.

She was about to return to her dicing when Fred quietly muttered, "Diffindo," under his breath, and the plate shattered once more.

That was the last straw for Mrs. Weasley. "THAT'S IT! OUT! ALL OF YOU, OUT OF MY KITCHEN! GO!"