Awkward
Throughout my years of living I can say with certainty that I've never ended up in a situation quite like this one. It isn't a particularly bad situation… However, I know for a fact that I'm not really equipped to handle it.
Awkward is not my strong suit. That's not to say I'm dripping with social grace, but uncomfortable circumstances tend to avoid me. Or, at least, I find ways to bluntly get myself out of uncomfortable circumstances before they reach this level of severe, well, uncomfortableness.
Much like this one right now.
It was a lovely morning in early winter. The first snowfall of the year, early as it may be, lay untouched, splayed across the Hogwarts grounds. I could clearly see from the sole window in the room that it was already afternoon, much later than I would have slept on any other day. This made me thankful I had decided to finish my Transfiguration essay yesterday morning instead of waiting for today, as I normally would.
Yesterday morning… It seemed like so long ago. I had done so much since then. Merlin, how I wish it was yesterday morning.
Yesterday morning, I had no plans besides doing my homework. It was a day I had set aside to get done all the work I had been putting off. I'd set up in the library, even sneaking in a cauldron cake for a mid-study snack later. I was ankle-deep in Herbology when Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell approached me.
"Oi, Cache!" Angelina called, inciting a harsh look from Madame Pince. She gave an apologetic grimace before continuing at a whisper, unable to contain a grin, "Homework on a Saturday morning? Maybe they should have stuck you in Ravenclaw."
I only shrugged, unphased by her banter, "Had nothing better to do."
"Well, I'll give you something better to do," Katie pinned me, hands on the back of my chair.
I couldn't help but reflect the girls' enthusiasm, "Oh yeah?"
"There's a soiree in the works in the Tower to celebrate Harry's win the last challenge."
I quirked a brow at the two, "You know I'm rooting for Diggory, right? Nothing against Harry or Gryffindor or anything, just Cedric's my captain and all…"
"It's just a party," Angelina rolled her eyes. "Keep your loyalty, but at least come by for a drink."
That did sound inviting. I took a moment to consider the offer, "Would be nice to drink with a new crowd… Getting a bit sick of the same 'ol blokes tryin'a get in my knickers…"
"Gryffindors are known for their chivalry," Katie wiggled her eyebrows.
"Alright, then," I gave in, "Why the hell not?"
And now, here I was, in a prefect's bedroom (assumably Ravenclaw, by the sheets), with what was clearly one of the Weasley's in bed next to me, judging by the blazing red hair and the splattering of freckles down his body. Both of us were fairly naked, obvious to say. Well, he was stark nude, I wore a men's shirt, bearing the Hufflepuff House crest.
The room smelled a mix of Leprechaun Clove Cigars and body odor. Clothes were thrown this way and that. A Gryffindor tie dangled from the bedpost above me, as if laughing at my lousy predicament. Lifting my head, I could see an empty bottle of Fire Whiskey on the floor. One of the sheets remained on the bed, the others and the comforter were thrown onto the floor. The poor bloke's desk was completely wrecked, parchment, quills, and ink wells haphazardly strewn across the floor. Shame was setting in, and setting in deep.
Merlin knows how we ended up here.
I took a breath, sitting up, not at all affecting my bed mate. A brief hope of being able to slip away without him ever knowing I've been here. The night's events came in a series of stills and blurs, though a few scenes stuck out. I recall dancing with Alicia Spinette (odd, considering the last time I saw her, I had given her a rather nasty bruise on her arm with a Bludger), snogging Lee Jordan briefly (and considering he wasn't the one in bed with me, I felt like a bit of a slag), and challenging Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan (which I won, thusly putting those fourth years in their place, hah!).
Fourth year… Weasley… Oh, shite almighty. If I shagged Ron, I'd never hear the end of it!
My choices were a bit limited. Red hair and freckles all over, clearly Weasley. It was either him or one of the twins, considering he was quite obviously male… I couldn't help but glance under the sheet and be a little impressed with the bit that made him such, which explained the ache in my lower half.
"I could brag about you, sir," I whispered in appreciation to myself.
My companion barely stirred. He was sprawled on his back, one arm thrown out towards me, the other covering his face. I debated waking him up, but eventually decided against it, figuring my dragon-sized headache was more than enough punishment and not to add dealing with a probably equally hung over one night stand would be too much. Instead, I looked for my pants, secretly glad I had chosen my red lace pair with the ribbon on the hips… Really only good for situations like this. I found it a bit coincidental that I had figured a Gryffindor would appreciate the red when I put them on last night, all without really expecting to have one see them. Well, I hope he did, at least.
I saw the red scrap of fabric hanging from a candlestick on the far end of the room. Feeling more whorish than ever, I went to retrieve them.
However, the very second I had gotten one foot on the floor, the Weasley groaned, shifting. He rolled onto his stomach, and the arm that had previously been flung over his face smacked against my thigh. As startled as I was by the unintentional contact, he was even moreso.
The boy jumped with a start, managing to prop himself up on one elbow, taking in the room with bleary eyes.
To my great relief, Ron was not the one staring at me. It was one of the twins.
He blinked very quickly, making a few strange faces before processing my presence.
"Hello."
He opened his mouth several times, scrunched up his face, but didn't really reply. Instead, he buried his head in the pillow with a loud groan.
"And good morning."
"Sorry, love," his voice was hoarse, "But it's not looking too good at the moment." I liked how casual he sounded. Put me at ease a bit.
I couldn't help but agree. "It's not really morning, either…" I mumbled.
"What time is it?"
"No idea… Sometime in the afternoon." Another groan from the pillow, sounding a bit like a rather naughty curse. He turned his head to the side, and I settled back into the bed a bit. "Do you remember anything from last night?" I shocked myself with how casual I sounded.
He managed a nod, "Bits and pieces… Well, your bits and pieces."
I didn't appreciate the grin he gave me, but couldn't help but chuckle at his joke. I wasn't friends with the twins, but I did like them. We're in the same year, and I'd had classes with them since first year. I was one of the many students who found their troublemaking very entertaining. Oh, but I hated the two on the pitch. They were ruthless buggers.
"So…" I really hated the awkwardness of this moment. The silence between our sentences made my stomach hurt (or that was the hangover… Maybe a bit of both), "Uh, which one are you?"
Assumably, he got this question a lot because he answered without needing much clarification, "Me? Can't quite tell yet," he scratched his head, "Let you know after my headache goes away."
There was a fifty percent chance of being right, and it's not as if it particularly mattered to me… But when I told my mates, 'I shagged a Weasley twin!' they're probably going to ask which one.
"So which one are you?"
I did a quick double-take at his question. With a frown, I asked, "You don't know my name?"
Maybe I didn't like the Twins as much as I thought.
"I know you're one of the Hufflepuff beaters…" he shrugged, "Cash? Catch or something?"
Knowing that was about all I was going to get, I nodded, "Cache. Mary-Kate Cache."
"That's it. Well, Miss Mary-Kate, this is certainly a predicament we seem to be in."
I couldn't help but ponder on the fact that he appeared to be much less concerned about the setting we were in. And how he wasn't too bothered by the fact that he didn't know my name.
"Please don't think too poorly of me," he continued, "I'm all for a good time, but this is a little too much. I really don't do this thing often."
Could have fooled me.
But, seeing as I was here next to him, I really couldn't judge. Shrugging, I said, "Quite alright. This whole endeavor came as a bit of a shock to me as well. ...Usually my sexual exploits are more female-oriented…"
"Oh," he nodded in understanding, closing his eyes for a beat before being hit with a rather sudden realization, "Oh!"
"Yes." I looked everywhere in the room but him, gnawing on the inside of my cheek.
"So you're a…"
"I suppose. Though, not entirely, I guess… It all just… Well, just happens, mostly."
He suddenly was looking at me with a lot more interest. "Really, now? With who?"
"Never kiss and tell, Weasley," I told him with a smile, standing and stretching, fully aware that I was giving him a fantastic view of my bum, yet finding myself not really caring. This morning was getting to be too much. I made a secret promise to lay off the booze for, well, ever. "So do you remember anything else from last night or just 'bits and pieces?'"
He was silent just long enough for me to glance over my shoulder to make sure he hadn't dozed back off. Instead, he was now sitting up in the bed, sheet falling lower and lower on his hips. He had me pinned with a look I was all too familiar with. His eyes kept trailing over the curves of my hips, to my legs, and back up again.
"You know," he started coyly, with a bit of a laugh in his voice, "Even the bits and pieces are a bit fuzzy," he crawled over closer to me, "Maybe a quick reminder would help."
I turned to face him fully, gaping at his audacity, entertaining the idea of saying no. But- from what I recall- he was a damn good shag. I thought back to my completed Transfiguration essay.
Maybe...I deserved a reward.
"What do you have in mind, Weasley?"
He smirked, catching me off guard by grabbing my hips, pulling me flush against the side of the bed and into a kiss. I let out a silently apology to whomever's bed this actually was.
With another frantic tug, he pulled me back onto the bed, and with about a minutes worth of uncomfortable shuffling, I ended up straddling his lap. It was the messy, gentle, morning sort of foreplay I expected our sloppy seconds to be. His hands were tentatively exploring my shape, moving in a repetitive trail up and down my back, to my hips and up my sides. He seemed more focused on the kiss… We both had morning breath, though he tasted distinctly of firewhiskey. I lay atop him, balancing on my knees and my hands on his shoulders. He was skinnier than I imagined, having mostly seen him wearing his Beater gear, but he was very solid. I shifted to lean mostly on one arm, using the other to feel over his chest and arm, eventually running up his neck to tangle in his hair.
He shivered, smiling against my lips. His smile was contagious, as I smiled too, pulling back for a quick, almost silent laugh at the absurdity of our actions. We didn't know eachother… The only reason we didn't hold back was because of the sole fact that we had already done this before.
Deterred by my slight retreat, Weasley boldly slid his hands down to grab my ass. I gasped and jumped forward at the unexpected action, allowing him to perfectly catch me again in a kiss, this time adding his tongue. His hands remained on my bum, splaying his fingers to mold to its shape, squeezing and releasing periodically.
I took his ministrations as a cue to start moving my hips, gently grinding against him, the movement of my hands becoming more and more rapid. I eventually settled behind his shoulders, pulling him forward.
A pleasurable noise vibrated from within his chest. He pushed his hips upwards, allowing me to feel the steadily growing hardness under the sheet. My head shot back with an uncontrollable gasp. Electricity shot through my entire body, and pressure began building between my legs, rushing to the point. He took this opportunity to attack my neck, covering my skin in feather light kisses, dragging his lips along the length of it, reveling in my moans and he continued to move our hips together. We found a rhythm, long and slow, fitting the mood of the morning- er, afternoon.
Weasley's hands dragged across my body, up my hips to cup my breasts through the shirt I wore. I sat up, struggling to continue grinding, eventually settling back onto my heels and giving him room to move. He did so flawlessly as I began the oddly difficult task of unbuttoning the shirt. My hands shook with anticipation and slight nervousness, prolonging my task.
Weasley, who had just been preoccupied with staring at my thighs, noticed my predicament, and did the what only an honorable person such as he would do.
He laughed at me.
"Shut up," I tried to glare, but found it futile. Instead, I ended up giving a miserable excuse for a pout.
But then his Gryffindor chivalry shined through, and though he was still laughing, he assisted me at least long enough to get most of the buttons undone.
As soon as my tits were the least bit visible, they were covered by his hands, and his lips were on mine again. The feeling was divine, having his incredibly hard cock between my legs and his shockingly skillful hands on my chest.
His hands skimmed at first, gradually getting a bit rougher, squeezing and pinching. It soon became a bit too much, and I buried my face into the crook of his neck, moaning loudly to his satisfaction. My mind was fuzzy in the best way possible, all traces of my hangover gone. One of his hands left my breast to tangle itself in my hair, gripping the back of my head and holding me close. His other hand, after a few more blissful minutes of fondling, slid over my ribs to my back, pressing me to him, as closely as possible.
"Are you, uhm, good to go?" he was panting, needy but unsure.
I found it incredibly sexy. I pulled away from his neck, skimming my nose along his slightly stubbled jaw line. We met in a deep kiss, much slower than our previous ones, lazily molding our lips together despite our growing need.
"Um, yeah, I guess," I answered, just as needy and unsure as he was.
"Okay," was all he managed, though the said it with a smile on his face.
He reached down, pushing away the sheet, his erection springing free. The sight of it made me shake with anticipation. "Are you alright?" he asked, worried.
My eyes snapped up to meet his, now wide with embarrassment, "Oh! Uh, yeah, I mean, I'm fine. It's just…" I wanted to demand he fuck me senseless, but I hardly knew the guy. "Um, yeah. I'm fine. Let's go."
Looking a bit more unsure than before, Fred or George nodded, returning his concentration to the task at hand. One hand directing his dick, the other steadying my shoulder, his placed himself at my entrance.
Holding back my quakes, I steadily lowered myself onto his impressive length. We let out tandem moans, his turning into a hiss of pleasure, while mine was accompanied with a wave of amber hair being thrown back.
"Oh, shit!" I whispered, having him fill me completely and then some. It was slightly painful, having him fully in me. But I bit my lip and began moving.
I could feel everything. The exact shape of his rock hard cock, his hands roaming from my hips to my breasts in an agonizingly slow pace, the vibrations of the pleasure-induced grunts and moans…
My hands shot down, settling flat on his stomach to brace myself as my hips began to move on their own. A warmth blossomed in the pit of my stomach, spreading through the rest of my body like a crashing wave. I kept my pace steady, not too slow, but definitely not that fast. Weasley settled into it well, rolling his hips with mine, adding extra thrust to our movement.
A familiar, almost ethereal pressure was building between my legs with every second that passed.
My shoulders collapsed in, "Fuck," I groaned, almost silently.
"Come 'ere," Weasley whispered, staring up at me as if I were something wonderful. He put one hand on the back of my neck, pulling me forward. With a bit of hesitation, I did as he asked, my hands now splayed across his chest, as I lay atop him in a cat-like stretch. We kissed with a clash of tongue and teeth, making our respective sounds of ecstasy. The change of position gave him great access to this one spot inside me that hand me seeing stars.
I gasped, a string of mumbled curses leaving my mouth, as I tore away from our kiss. My hands grabbed onto his shoulders, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. The pressure was becoming unbearable.
He must have been feeling the same as he used one hand to anchor me to him by the back of my neck, the other reaching down to grab my ass again. With me secured, he began to thrust his hips upward mercilessly, going in deep and fast and hard.
It was too much for me. His suddenly quickened pace sent me unexpectedly over the edge, with a wordless cry. Shocks of pleasure raced through my entire body, my eyes clenched shut yet I still saw sparks. I went rigid with the sensation, my only movement the clenching pulsation of my inner walls around his hardness.
He soon followed, his breathing becoming ragged and his movement desperate. Only a few more pumps before I felt his hot release. He held me as close as possible as he came, our bodies nearly morphing together.
We lay still for all of three seconds before our surroundings and situation returned to the forefront of our minds.
I pulled away from him, wincing with embarrassment at how our skin stuck a bit with sweat. I couldn't get off of him quick enough.
He cleared his throat, sitting up, our eyes never meeting. Suddenly feeling immodest, I buttoned up the shirt I was wearing, tugging it as far over my legs as it would go.
"So."
"So…"
"Are, uhm," he started, still glancing around the room, "You hungry?"
Without really thinking about an answer, I nodded, "Yeah, I'm a bit peckish."
"I'm starved," he mumbled, seemingly offhanded.
I didn't respond, instead choosing to stand and begin collecting my clothes. Of course, I started with my candle-strung panties, which Forge-Gred found very amusing. He didn't look as if he was going to move right away, but he wasn't getting very comfortable, either.
With a sharp eye and a bit of luck, I managed to find my skirt under the bed and my shoes by the door. Now somewhat dressed, though still missing a few articles of clothing, I turned to face my companion, my mouth not really knowing what to say, but my uncomfortable body language sort of saying it all.
"So."
"So…"
"Do you think we should clean up a bit?" I bothered to ask him, though I could already guess his answer.
He laughed at me, "No, leave it as is. Clearwater's reaction will be hilarious."
I smiled despite myself. Pulling my wand from my skirt, I muttered, "Scourgify," at the messy desk. The quills and parchment flew from the ground into a neatly organized pile.
When I turned back, Weasley was pulling on his pants, belt and all. Our eyes finally met for the first time since we… Well, you know. We both looked away, me blushing, and him playing it off as a laugh.
"So."
"So…"
I leaned back against the desk, a mix of tiredness and a need for casualty driving me to do so. "Am I ever going to figure out which one you are?"
"Which one I'm what?" he was searching for his shirt now, snatching his tie off the bedpost.
"Fred or George." I clarified, watching him keenly as he dressed, only shoes missing now. He began trotting around the room looking for them, taking his time to answer my question.
It wasn't until I pointed to where they were thrown in the corner, did he say anything, "Does it matter?"
The question seemed rather oppressive, considering the awkward-yet-light/funny atmosphere we'd woken up to. "A little bit. I feel like a total slag not knowing the name of the guy I shagged."
He stopped in front of me, "Well, you have it narrowed down to two…" he shrugged.
We were both fully covered now, ready to leave, but both reluctant to do so. I pushed away from the desk, awkwardly shuffling to the door. Weasley followed beside me. "Why won't you just tell me?" I wasn't pushing the question, just curious.
"Are you kidding? This is the best part of having a twin. Screwing with people."
"But we already screwed," I quipped quietly.
I got a decent laugh out of him, "Yeah, I suppose so."
We were at the door now, pausing in a moment of uncertainty of who would be the one to reach for the handle.
In the end, it was him. But just as we were about to step out, he grabbed my arm lightly. "Hold on just a second…" I was going to ask him what for, but he answered by sweetly pressing his lips to mine one final time. It was a good kiss, the kind you remember with a fondness, no sexual connotation attached to it. But it was short lived.
He pulled away, stepping through the door. "I'll see you later, Cache."
"Later, Weasley."
I never did find out who exactly I slept with, be it Fred or George. No one knew we had snuck off together that night, anyway, so no one ever asked and I wasn't one to tell.
When the next challenge in the Tournament came, I refused Angelina's request for a Gryffindor soiree part two.
Whenever I saw the twins, be it in the Great Hall, or a corridor between classes, they would both smile and wink at me. I would give a sour pout that barely hid a smile in return. They would laugh to each other, and I would shake my head. I wondered if the other twin knew what had happened, or whether the one had convinced him to get in on the joke. Regardless, I didn't speak with them besides a quick "Hello," in passing on occasion, so I let it be.
Still, if the night was right and I had a bit of Fire Whiskey or Dragon Ale in me, I would tell the story of my odd morning with Gred-Forge Weasley to my mates. We'd have a laugh, and they'd ask, "So you still don't know which one you slept with? Not even a clue?"
And I would shake my head and say, "Nope. And I don't really want to ask."