Collision - Fred Weasley

Chapter twenty three

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Fred's POV:

Fred made his way down the stairs of the Slytherin dorms, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

His lip throbbed and his knuckles stung, but that wasn't what had him cursing under his breath. It was that moment, the brief, intense moment when he had wiped the blood from Lyra's face, and she had leaned into his touch.

And he swore he felt himself leaning towards her.

His heart was pounding through his chest. Each breath coming out as a ragged, desperate call for air. He felt a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling inside of him. He had never felt this way before, not even with Angelina.

He blamed it on the alcohol. Surely, for years him and Lyra has despised each other, known for their constant fighting. And not that flirty kind, Fred would literally spend his nights praying on her downfall.

But now, he had lost his 'girlfriend' because of her, fought for her, and touched her.

Fred ran his hand through his messy, auburn hair as he walked down the cold stairs from the dorms. Filled with drunk students making out, or dancing against each other.

As he reached the common room, some glanced at him, looking him up and down. He was a mess, she made him a mess.

He pushed through the students, who stared at him, probably noticing his split lip, and his shirt covered in blood splatters. He didn't care, he needed to get out of here.

As he had reached the corridors right outside of the common room, he stopped. He leaned against the cold, brick wall, letting out a long breath as he closed his eyes shut. But even with his eyes closed, 

He could still see her.

His mind flashed back to her face, and the way her eyes had softened just for a split second.

"Bloody hell..." he muttered to himself.

It was wrong to feel this way. She was the worst thing ever. She was arrogant, rude, selfish, not to mention smug, and competitive. But there was something else, something that had been eating him alive for days now, ever since that night they had been caught by Snape.

Tonight had made it worse.

Fred needed air. He walked through the castle, or rather waddled around. The alcohol was cruising through his veins, and for a moment he considered heading back to the party to George and the others, drinking away his feelings.

They would probably ask him about the fight, ask him about Collins, they would probably joke about him and Lyra, and make comments and theories on what they might have been doing while they were alone in the girls dorm.

Everything would be like normal again.

He would lose himself in the party, push these thoughts away, and never look at the Slytherin girl ever again.

But as much as he wanted everything to be normal again, it would never be. He couldn't bring himself to turn around and head back.

He continued walking, reaching the courtyard. The air was cold, and refreshing. The rain had stopped, he loved the smell of damp air.

He leaned against a stone pillar, staring at the tree inside of the courtyard.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he muttered. He had always described himself as carefree, not letting anything- anyone get under his skin. But Lyra had gotten under it, in a way he didn't think was possible.

And the worst part was, he didn't know if he hated it or wanted more of it.

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"Fred?"

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice, finding his twin brother standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed in concern.

"You look like hell," George said, taking in Fred's appearance. The blood, the bruises, the unfamiliar look in his eyes. The desperate expression written across his face.

Fred let out a bitter laugh. "Feel like it too."

"What happened? Word's already spreading about you and Collins going at it," George asked, stepping up to the pillar beside him. 

"Did you actually beat him into the ground? Because, mate, your shirt looks like you've been through a battlefield." He joked slightly, but it was clear he was concerned.

"Yeah, something like that," Fred muttered, not wanting to get into the details. "He was trying something with Lyra. Had to step in."

George gave him a curious look, raising an eyebrow. "You? Defending Lyra Arakan? Thought you two were at each other's throats, not, whatever this is." George replied, recalling all the times he was the one who had to step in when the two fought.

Fred tensed at his brother's words, not entirely sure how to explain it himself. He was confused enough without George poking at it.

"Collins was just being a prick, trapping the girl against a wall. Merlin knows what could've happened." Fred said, brushing it off. "She didn't ask for it, alright?"

George studied him for a moment, his usual playful expression replaced with something more serious. He could tell something was off, but he knew Fred well enough not to push too hard.

"Alright, I get it," George said, leaning against the pillar. "But are you sure you're okay? You've been off since, well, since the match."

Fred nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was convincing George or himself. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, confused."

George didn't say anything for a while, and they stood there in silence, watching sky. Finally, George clapped Fred on the shoulder, his grin returning.

"Well, if you want to come back and drink yourself into oblivion with the rest of us, you know where to find me. Angelina's already calling you a lost cause, by the way." He winked.

Fred's stomach tightened at the mention of Angelina, though not for the reasons it should have. The thing he had with her had vanished, he missed it, but it felt different. Lately it's been like he had to force himself to act interested in her.

"And don't be afraid of bumping into Lyra again. She came down in her, nightgown, or whatever it was, fetching a blanket for her friend." George smiled, barely containing his laughter.

"You should've seen her. A brave Ravenclaw came over to her, teasing her about you, actually. She didn't even give him a warning before pouring a cup of gin over his head, walking straight back to the dorms." He finished.

Fred chuckled slightly. "Really?" He asked.

"Yeah, she would make a good prankster." He drifted off, before nudging his brother. "But, we'll be waiting on you back at the party, come if you want."

"Yeah, I'll catch up later," Fred said, giving George a nod before he turned and headed back to the party.

Fred stayed there for a while longer. Eventually, he'd have to figure out what was going on with Lyra, what these feelings meant.

But not tonight. 

Tonight those feelings were being pushed back by the alcohol.

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