✔️ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓&𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 → 𝑓. 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑦

43 | P U R E

•••
before the damage is done,
before you're callin' it love,
                            set it free.
•••

   Fred awoke to the sound of the rustling blanket as it slightly moved. His vision did take a second to clear on the small figure sitting on the edge of the bed, her bare pale skin shining in the full moon's light that was falling through the window. Regrets licked on his insides while he watched the soft features of the girl in admiration. Her skin was perfect, there was not one irregularity on this perfect body. She pressed the palm of her left hand into the mattress, her right hand was trying to fix the mess of long dangled curls on her head into something that didn't tell what they had been doing for hours now.

   She was his drug. One touch and he intoxication is instant. Her scent alone sent him into a heady trance. one that doesn't end until their bodies are still once more, just warm and snuggled in as close as two souls can be. Fred didn't know who was in control about this, but he highly feared they lost it both.

   Even though he should know better he fetched Lynnea from the Burrow every now and then ever since the incident in the joke shop, and probably everything was wrong about this. They did it in the nights, when everyone was asleep, so nobody would notice the girl's absence. The moment they arrived in Fred's appartement he was unable to hold back, he couldn't think of anything else but run his fingers over every inch of Lynnea's delicate skin, placing kisses down her body, hearing her soft moans and sighs all over. She was in total control of him, and he guessed she was aware of that.

   Now she got out of bed and walked over to the armchair, where most of her clothes lay. She was completely naked, and the pictures in Fred's mind again started racing; pictures of Lynnea on top of him, of moving in the same rythm, of her small body being pressed against his ...

   In one single move she let the silk cloth of her loose summer dress slide down her body, taking away Fred's favourite view.

   "We have to end this", he whispered without knowing his brain intended to speak the words out loud.

   "I know", was her bitter reply.

   "No complaining?"

   "Oh please, I exactly knew this talk would come", she snorted. "I'm gone in the morning. I'll return to Hogwarts. Life goes on, huh?"

   "Oh, yeah, right", Fred muttered, as he had completely forgotten about her leaving today. He threw a quick gaze at the watch; it was two am. What a horrid time. He remembered Lynnea once saying that she hates this time most of all.

   "2 am is for the poets who can't sleep, because their minds are alive with words for someone who isn't their", she had told him. "It's for the alcoholics drinking themselves into amnesia to forget someone who left. Two am is not for the lovers asleep in each others arms. It's for the lonely, the ones who are in love with the loved, but aren't loved back."

   He still remembered how those words left him stunned back then on Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place. How they sunk into his soul, leaving him exactly knowing what she was talking about, and in that moment he realised it wasn't Angelina; it was never Angelina. It was Lynnea. Lynnea was made for him, and he was made for her.

   "So would you bring me back, would you?", she snapped him out of his thought, now fully dressed, her messy hair tucked up into a ponytail.

   "Lynnea, I'm -"

   "Don't tell me you're sorry, okay, Fred?", she hissed. "That's it. You don't want me anymore and I'll leave. You can move on and I ..." Her voice cracked. "Just bring me home, okay?"

   How curious that he, looking at her, was thinking exactly what her, looking at him, was thinking, and yet they both did not understand.

•••

   After a long shower back at the Burrow, Lynnea finally went to bed. 2:36 am. For the lonely. The ones who are in love with the loved, but aren't loved in return.

   But did she love him. Was she even old enough, mature enough, to decide if this was love? Even if she wasn't sure about that, she was sure about one thing: it was agony.

   "Where have you been?", a fierce whisper appeared from the other bed in the room, as Harry, who she had predicted to be fast asleep, lay wide awake when she entered the bedroom.

   "Couldn't sleep, was going for a walk", she muttered, laying down on her bed. Harry would kill her, if he'd ever find out what she and Fred were doing all those nights at the twins'appartement.

   "Are you kidding me?", he snorted, sitting up in his bed.

   "Harry, please just leave it", Lynnea whispered back. "We both know I'm lying and I'm not planning to tell you the truth, so just let us sleep, okay?"

   "Don't do that, Lynn", Harry after a while of silence said, a begging in his voice.

   "Do what?", she replied, sitting back up, her elbows pressed into the mattress.

   "Lock me out."

   "Really Harry, stop worrying about me", Lynnea said, flinging her legs out of the bed, just to walk over to Harry and sit down next to him. "I'm not locking you out, but I just can't tell you right now. Whatever it was, nevertheless it's over now, so - just don't worry."

   "I know you're doing some highly stupid shit lately", Harry said. "I - have a guess what it is, but to be honest I don't want to know. Just be careful, okay?"

   "I always am", Lynnea retorted, feeling the mattress vibrating under Harry's muffled laughter. "Okay, you're right. But get this one thing straight: I'm not letting you down, okay? Never. We're in this together, and as long as I'm able to prevent it, I won't leave you drowning alone in the shitty sea."