She was a misfit, he was a git.
Matilda Diggory enters her fifth year of school, ready to remain as under the radar as possible, only there's a catch. She's somehow managed to catch the eye of a particularly annoying redhead, who seems hell-bent on...
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By mid-January, Matilda was sick of the knee-deep snow that had enveloped the Scottish Highlands since December. Despite the blue sky above, a chilling breeze reminded them on their way to Hogsmeade that it was very much still winter.
Fred walked beside her, hands in his coat pockets, his shoulder occasionally brushing hers. George and Lee trailed ahead, arguing over whether the best Zonko's prank of all time involved belching powder or screaming yo-yos. Matilda didn't weigh in—she was too content soaking up the fact that her mind was clear, her joints weren't aching, and a pint of butterbeer awaited her.
The past couple of weeks had brought with them a wave of interest in Matilda's life. Suddenly, people were paying more attention to her—as if they'd discovered she was more than just Cedric Diggory's smart twin. Stacey, Freya, and Sammy had breakfast with her the day prior, and while Matilda enjoyed their company, she wished they'd reached out sooner.
Still, Matilda wouldn't change it for the world. It was all worth it to have Fred walking next to her, to have the skin beneath her shirt peppered with his tender kisses. Her heart fluttered as she thought about what they got up to the previous night, a smirk pulling at her lips as she looked up at him.
"I like your scarf," Fred said, tugging on the end of it.
Matilda looked at the pink, green, and brown stripes. "Thanks. I found it at a charity shop back home."
"You know lots about our town. I only know that angry postman and your paper shop."
"I go into town to escape my family a lot," Matilda said, kicking up a bit of snow with the toe of her boot. "And it's not my paper shop."
"Not yet," Fred said. After a moment, he glanced at her, "I've never really met your parents."
"Lucky you."
"Can I meet them this summer?"
Wrong question, Freddie.
Matilda's heart was racing so loud, so quickly, she could have sworn it was about to burst out of her chest. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, buying time. How does one explain to her boyfriend that her parents don't particularly enjoy the idea of her dating said boyfriend? Even if she hoped that it would all work out.
"They're a bit odd," Matilda said, furrowing her brows. "I'm not sure if you would get on with them."
"Amos seemed normal at the Cup," Fred said, nudging her arm. "Come on, I've got to at least try to charm your mother."
The thought made her stomach knot. It wasn't just awkwardness—it was fear. She might not even be welcomed back home, let alone bring a boy with her. Her mother had a way of turning any happiness into something shameful. What if Fred saw that? What if he realised she wasn't worth the trouble?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "We'll see."
Fred, noticing her hesitation, gave her a weary look before nodding ahead, "Almost there."
