"painted as a villain."
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ezra sutton and fred weasley were not friends, not even close, but she did need his help and neither expected what would come out of such a simple request.
[prisoner of azkaban - goblet of fire]
[book one i...
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"Hey, what are you doing here?"
Sutton glanced over her shoulder to see Fred Weasley coming to a halt next to her, gazing down at her with a confused smile.
"What are you doing here?" She questioned, unsure as to why he was at the same party as her.
"I asked you first." He pouted.
The look on his face caused the brunette to grin up at him before she finally answered, "I come here every year."
"Really? Because I've never seen you here before." The male pointed out sceptically.
"Well, I usually avoid you Gryffindors." She replied as she took a sip of her drink, savouring the burning sensation that the alcohol caused while she witniess Fred clutch at his chest in mock agony from the corner of his eye.
"I have never been more offended in my entire life." He responded.
Sutton laughed, "I'm glad."
He smiled down at her.
"So, how are you?" At her confused glance, he elaborated, "With the whole mass murderer Dad thing?"
The brunette groaned.
"I'm too sober for that conversation." She answered before she knocked back the remnant of her drink and began to pour herself another, quicking downing the contents of that one and she began to smile as she felt the alcohol begin to affect her.
"Can't argue with that." Fred agreed as he took the second cup that the brunette had picked up and offered him.
She grinned up at him before the two made their way across the crowded room to the drinks table and after finishing another whole bottle between the two of them, neither remembered much of the rest of the night as it progressed.
✦❀✦
A pounding headache was what greeted Sutton as she woke on Christmas morning.
She groaned before she attempted to block out all noise by burrowing herself further under her blankets and covering her face with her pillows as she strived to recall anything that had happened the night before at the party, only to come up with absolutely nothing.
Her door cracked open and she heard someone enter as quietly as they possibly could before a glass softly chinked against her bedside table and then her bed dipped, signalling that someone had sat down.
"Happy Christmas, love." Her mother whispered.
"Lower your voice." Sutton groaned, her voice muffled by the duvet.
Natalia smiled at the lump.
"There's some coffee next to your bed." She murmured to the hungover teen, "We'll open presents whenever you're ready."
