"We can't keep doing this," Winona panted, robes bundled up around her thighs, the sleeves falling down to expose her pale shoulders to cold air of the dungeons.
Jeremiah gripped her tighter, and her head fell back with a huff at the sensations he was making her feel. "Why not?" he asked, coy and victorious as he looked at her through hooded eyes, remaining firm an extra moment before finally pulling away and straightening his own robes.
Winona hurried to do the same, pulling her school shirt back down over her chest and knotting her Gryffindor tie securely around her throat. Without very much dignity, she pulled her panties back up, settling her robes back around her legs.
"Doesn't it make you feel..." she trailed off, wondering how to word it. "Dirty?" she finally settled on, only to wince at how stupid it sounded when she said it aloud.
Jeremiah's eyes glinted in a way she might almost call playful, if not for the sneer fixed on his lips. "That's the best part," he said slyly. She gave a small smile of weak agreement that seemed to appease him. "You go first, make your way back up to the entrance hall for dinner. Try not to look suspicious for once," he added in a dry voice, as though her antics could be awfully tiring at times.
"We didn't actually get caught last time," she reminded him, just as flat as she ran her fingers through her messy hair. "Snape still thinks I was just down here to plant dungbombs."
The twins had been awfully confused when Snape had appeared by the Gryffindor table the next night, ordering her to follow him to serve her detention. "Detention?" George had parroted as she'd reluctantly gathered her things. Fred was similarly bemused. "What for?"
"Don't play dumb, Weasley," the Potions Master had snapped, sneering around the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "There's no doubt Miss Andrews was acting on your orders. Dungbombs are something of your signature move, are they not?" he'd drawled in the tone of someone experiencing great boredom.
"You set off dungbombs without us?" Fred had asked, blinking at her in surprise.
"Andrews," Snape had snapped sternly, and with a grimace of distaste and a muttered promise to explain later, she'd scrambled to her feet and followed the Great Dungeon Bat down to his cave, where he'd proceeded to make her clean cauldrons for four hours – without the use of magic.
The whole time, all she'd been able to think was: the shag with Jeremiah hadn't even been worth it.
"Well, get going, before anyone sees us together," Jeremiah muttered, bringing her back to the present.
It was certainly not the romance most girls dreamt about, but there all the same. For a split second she considered leaning in for a kiss, but at the last moment chickened out. Jeremiah didn't like showing affection if he wasn't already halfway through ploughing you like you were his whore – which, in all fairness, she basically was.
Swallowing back her own frustrations, Winona straightened herself up one final time before slipping out of the unused classroom and out into the hall. It was empty and silent, and she ducked her head down, ignoring the stares of the portraits, all of whom looked far too knowing for her liking.
She managed to wind her way up through the dungeons without any issues, but once she got to the entrance hall she was stopped abruptly by a large wall of students, all chattering excitedly about something at the foot of the staircase.
"Did you just come from the dungeons?" asked a familiar voice, and Winona looked over to see Ginny standing before her, a brow arched skeptically in her direction.
"No," Winona lied point-blank.
Ginny looked hardly convinced, which was fair considering Winona was still stood literally in the doorway leading down to the dungeons, but she thankfully didn't press the issue. She just crossed her arms over her chest and leaned towards the mass of students blocking the way.
"What's going on?" Winona asked, smoothing down her hair once again as she wandered from the entrance to the damp dungeon, stopping beside Ginny and pushing herself up onto her toes to try and get a look at whatever everyone was so excited about.
"Announcement about the Tournament," Ginny explained, looking rather unfazed by the whole affair. "The students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will get here next Friday. We're getting out of class early, but we have to go greet them out in front of the castle."
"Cool," Winona nodded, trying to look interested. To be honest, she was just tired and dirty and sore. She wanted nothing more than to head up to the dorms for a scolding hot shower and take her chances with a nap before dinner.
"Go on, then," Ginny told her just as her friend Luna appeared from the crowd. Winona smiled at her kindly. Luna was great; she never cared what anyone thought of her. Winona only wished she could be embody that sort of effortless confidence.
"Go on, where?" Winona asked Ginny innocently.
"Wherever you'd rather be right now," Ginny quipped.
Winona grimaced at how transparent she was. "I'm just dying for a shower," she said honestly, "and a nap, if the fates allow."
"Go," Ginny waved her off once again. "The twins were looking for you, by the way. I'll tell them where you've gone when I see them?"
"Thanks, Ginger," Winona said sweetly, reaching up to boop Ginny affectionately on the nose before hurrying around the crowd of students and back up to Gryffindor Tower.
She was lost in daydreams of a blissfully hot shower and maybe some equally hot chocolate from the kitchens, completely unaware of her surroundings as she said the password and climbed into the common room.
She was expecting it to be empty – everyone either down in the entrance hall with the rest of them or still making their way back from classes. She was surprised, then, when as she stumbled noisily into the room, tripping over a rug with a cuss, she was met with a sharp squeak and a loud thump.
Whipping her head around, Winona set her eyes on the most horrific thing she'd ever seen in her life. Fred was on the couch by the fire with Angelina. He was shirtless, eyes wide and horrorstruck, lips swollen from snogging. Angelina was holding her hands over her chest, which was clad in a less-sexy more-practical bra, the colour a plain white. Her eyes were narrowed, glaring at Winona crossly.
"Holy shit," Winona said before she could think to stop herself.
"Winona!" Angelina hissed, and finally gathering her wits, Winona let out a small squawk at the ridiculousness of the situation, slapping a hand over her eyes and turning her back on the embarrassed pair.
"Sorry," she told them quickly, hand still pressed firmly across her eyes. "Sorry. But really, be glad it was me. The common room? Honestly? You two are lucky a first year didn't walk in on you. Although, I s'pose it would've been a laugh for the rest of us," she rambled, unable to help the awkwardness she felt. She sealed her lips shut before she could say anything else and make the situation even worse than it already was.
"We're decent, Winnie," Angelina sighed, and Winona turned back, peeking through her fingers to confirm before lowering her hand and biting back a smirk.
They both looked embarrassed, but Angelina was more frustrated and sheepish, while Fred looked just to the right of mortified, as though he were wishing it were a first year who'd walked in on them, rather than her.
"Anyway..." she muttered, idly toying with her hands, clicking her tongue at the uncomfortable situation. "I'm gonna go, uh," she faltered, "just go. That way," she clarified, pointing in the direction of the stairs before giving a weak, awkward smile and scurrying off towards the dorms.
She went straight for the shower, trying to let the scalding water wash away the image of Angelina on top of her best friend. She remembered that only a short hour ago, she'd been in the same position with Jeremiah, and promptly shuddered, scrubbing her skin extra hard, just to be safe.
She dressed in clothes for dinner – simple track pants and a grey sweater – and brushed her hair out, tying it behind her head in a sloppy bun. Then she took a deep breath and stepped back into the dorm, hoping that with any luck, Angelina wouldn't be waiting for her.
She never had been a particularly lucky person.
Angelina looked up from where she was sliding her feet into some worn sneakers, and if Winona wasn't mistaken, she was blushing. "Winnie," she greeted her awkwardly.
"I didn't see anything good, don't worry," Winona hurried to assure her, but Angelina didn't look comforted by the words. So, maybe it could have been phrased better. "What I mean is, I see you dressing up here all the time, so it's nothing new."
"But Fred––" she tried to say, embarrassment swimming in her eyes.
"Was just shirtless," Winona reminded her easily. "I've spent pretty much every summer at his house since first year – I've seen him shirtless before, Ange," she added with a snort. But her friend still looked humiliated. "Uh, sorry again about interrupting…it," she said stiltedly, unsure how to word it without offending her much more conservative friend.
But Angelina surprised her by giving a snort of wry amusement. "Nothing to interrupt," she said, bitter.
Winona's eyebrows just about escaped her forehead they raised up so high. "Oh?" she asked, curious despite the warning bells ringing in her head, telling her DANGER: DO NOT PROCEED!
But apparently the one word was all it took, because suddenly it was like she'd given Angelina permission to swoop closer, gushing about her sexual frustrations. Winona could only bite her tongue to keep from groaning aloud in sheer horror.
"You have a boyfriend, right?" Angelina asked in a secretive tone. Winona's eyes went wide. "Fred asked me if I knew if you were seeing anyone, because he and George think you are, but you won't tell them who," she whispered even though their dorm was completely empty, Alicia and Hope probably already down in the Great Hall for dinner. "I told him I didn't know, but it makes sense – all the sneaking around, I get it now. You've got a boyfriend."
Winona didn't want to outright lie to Angelina's face. Besides, anything she said to the contrary would only look like denial anyway. "Okay, yeah," she reluctantly admitted, heart thumping loudly in her chest. "I am seeing someone."
She graciously thanked Merlin when Angelina didn't press for a name. "And have you two…y'know…?" Angelina asked awkwardly, making a suggestive sort of movement with her hands.
"Are you really asking me about my sex life right now?" Winona asked, the whole thing abundantly surreal. When had they gone from bickering over whose shirt was whose to talking about boning their boyfriends?
"Come on, Winnie," Angelina bemoaned, reaching forwards to tug on her arm. "I don't have anyone else to go to with this stuff."
"Uh, Alicia? Hope? Katie? Hell, even Lee? Literally anyone but me," she hissed, her cheeks growing warm. "I can't believe you wanna talk about this. I mean, aren't you the one always telling us to be mature and wise and focused on our schoolwork?"
"Things change," Angelina muttered quietly. She looked so sad all of a sudden, so lost, that Winona didn't have it in her to turn her away any more.
With a deep sigh, she tipped her head back, prayed to Merlin for strength, before facing her friend properly and asking in a reluctant voice, "what exactly do you want to know?"
Angelina brightened, more than relieved by her friend's change of attitude. "So, you've, you've done it, then," she whispered, eyes wide and imploring.
"First of all," Winona began with another heavy sigh, "if you can't say the word sex, you're probably not ready to be having it."
Angelina's dark skin went just a few shades darker, and Winona smirked on the inside. "Well, that's just the thing," she murmured, suddenly shy. "Fred and I haven't…" she trailed off, still struggling with the word.
Winona blinked in surprise. "You haven't had sex yet?"
"We've fooled around a little, but we haven't…gone all the way, I guess you could say," she told Winona lowly.
Winona ducked her head to meet her friend's downcast stare. "You're not ready?" she asked sympathetically.
To Winona's surprise, Angelina scoffed. "I'm ready," she told her with a touch more confidence than before. "Fred, however…" she trailed off again.
Winona tried not to splutter at the sheer horror of what she was gleaning from the conversation. "You mean he's having…issues?" she asked uncomfortably, making a suggestive hand gesture of her own.
"No!" Angelina cried, reaching up to rub at her face as she groaned. "What I mean is, he always stops us before we get to that point," she continued on once she'd reigned in her embarrassment.
Winona blinked, still surprised. "Every time?"
"Every time," Angelina confirmed with a grim nod. "And there've been a lot of times," she added a little wistfully.
Winona's insides curdled together. "Does he ever say why?"
"He only ever says that we should wait. Or that it's not a good time, or place. I feel like, really, he's just making excuses," she sighed the sigh of a sad, unsatisfied girl.
"That's weird," Winona murmured around a confused twist of her face. "He's a guy. Shouldn't they be desperate to get to that part? It's wired into their DNA or something, right?" she mused, thinking of her stolen moments with Jeremiah. It seemed sometimes that it was the only thing ever on his mind. The Slytherin was insatiable.
"You know from experience?" Angelina pushed, a little impish but mostly just curious.
"You could say I do, yeah," Winona admitted, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, balling the material up in her fists.
"Can I – can I ask you something?" Angelina asked softly.
"Uh, sure."
Angelina's skin grew darker once again, the look in her eyes innocent and yet somehow also not. "What does it feel like?"
Winona couldn't have possibly stood to her feet any faster. "Nope," she said immediately, holding out a hand as though to physically swat away the question. "Not going there."
"Come on, Winnie," Angelina begged, hurrying after her.
"Uh-uh," she insisted, forcing her bare feet into shoes and making a break for the door. "Nope. Not happening."
"Winnie!" Angelina complained.
"Nope!" she called back for the third time, voice carrying as she picked up her bag of art supplies, shoved the door open with her shoulder, and escaped out into the hall. The common room was mostly empty when she wandered down, all except for Fred, who was standing by the fire. She'd never seen him look so awkward before.
"Win!" he exclaimed upon seeing her, an anxious look to his face. Winona desperately wanted to bash her head against the stone wall, hoping it might knock her out just long enough to avoid whatever conversation was coming.
Only Fred didn't say anything. He just cleared his throat, awkward and unsure. Winona gripped the strap of her bag tightly, chewing on the inside of her cheek and trying to neither laugh hysterically nor go give herself that concussion.
"Uh, is Ange okay?" he finally asked after a long, extremely uncomfortable silence. It seemed like an afterthought, like smalltalk, almost.
Winona cringed as thoughts of Angelina's questions flooded her brain. "Yeah," she answered him shortly, clearing her throat when her voice sounded wrought. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll be down in a moment."
"Good," Fred nodded again, but the look in his eyes was distant, his thoughts elsewhere. She realised he was probably wondering how much Angelina had told her, and couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her lips as though summoned.
A little mischief to make herself feel better certainly wasn't out of the cards, was it?
"What?" asked Fred anxiously when he caught sight of her impish expression. Winona said nothing, content to let him stew. "What?" he pressed anxiously, growing stressed in the face of her silence.
"Nothing," she said, widening her eyes and fluttering her lashes innocently. Fred, practically her mentor in all things mischievous, only seemed to grow more uncomfortable.
"What did Ange say?" he pressed, looking very much like he hoped the castle itself would swallow him whole, never to be heard from again – because at least then he wouldn't have to deal with this conversation, either. Winona could relate.
"Nothing," she told him again, voice holding just an edge of playful teasing. She gave a tiny little grin and walked past him casually, heading straight for the portrait hole. But Fred caught hold of her elbow, pulling her gently back to him. Surprised, she glanced up at him, firelight dancing across his freckled cheeks. "Fred," she said gently, the genuine anxiety in his blue eyes beginning to hurt her heart. "I'm messing with you. She's barely told me anything," she promised him.
He didn't look totally convinced, but she didn't waver, staring up at him imploringly, wanting to soothe his fears.
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head, allowing a hint of impishness to return to her eyes, hoping it would cheer him up. "Is there something to tell?"
"No," he muttered immediately, like it were a reflex. Too fast, she noted, meaning it was a lie.
"Okay," she said instead of calling him on it. "Well, I'm gonna head down to dinner now," she told him, gently extracting her arm from his grip. He blinked down at their hands in surprise, as though he'd forgotten he was still holding on. "You okay?" she asked slowly. "You seem a little out of it."
"Just..." he trailed off, not seeming to know how the sentence would end. In his eyes were a hundred million thoughts, she could see them swimming around in his irises like fish in a pond. Questions and desires and secrets and more questions. So many things he wasn't saying – just another barrier between them. She hoped he would voice at least one, just one thing to get a glimpse inside that brilliant brain of his. But in the end, all he said was, "it's nothing. I'm just a little tired."
She was disappointed but refused to let it show, bobbing her head once and attempting a smile before beginning to slowly edge away.
"I'm gonna, uh, gonna wait for Ange," he told her, gesturing over his shoulder.
"Okay," she replied. "I'll see you down at dinner."
And she turned away, feeling that barrier between them grow to be the size of a canyon, full of everything they weren't saying.
The day of the thirtieth dawned and Winona woke late, having been up the whole night before, busy sketching and experimenting with her watercolours. Nobody had woken her – but that wasn't unusual, her dorm mates knew how cranky she could get.
Dressing quickly, she made her way down to the common room, surprised to find Hermione loitering at the foot of the boys' stairs.
"Hey 'Mione," she greeted her around a small yawn.
"Oh, Winona!" said Hermione energetically, and Winona blinked at the crazed look in her eyes. "I've been looking for you the last couple of nights, but you haven't been in the common room."
"Detention, kitchen visits, assorted pranking escapades," she waved her hand vaguely, "you know how it is."
The look Hermione cast her that she most certainly did not know how it was, but she was on task now, not to be distracted by Winona's rebellious attitude towards school and life in general. "I've started an organisation," she began importantly, then stopped as though waiting for a comment.
"You have?" Winona blinked in surprise. "Uh, brilliant."
"It's called S.P.E.W.," she told Winona with a smile. "It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."
Winona could only blink again. " 'Mione, I just woke up and I haven't had a cup of tea yet," she reminded the energetic witch. "You'll have to break it down for me."
"Basically we're advocating for the rights of House Elves," she told her eagerly.
"Oh," Winona murmured, taking the information in. "That's nice," she added, trying to be supportive. "Um, what're your aims?"
"Thank you for asking! We have an array of short-term and long-term goals, but what it all boils down to is liberating the House Elves from their enslavement, beginning here at Hogwarts."
Winona took yet another beat to understand. "Right," she said, slow and careful. This was obviously something she was very passionate about, misled though it may have been.
"Would you like to buy a badge?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Only two sickles."
Winona was saved from having to answer by the appearance of Ron and Harry. They seemed to be in good spirits, talking excitedly about the other schools that would be arriving that very afternoon, musing on what the students might be like. Apparently Ron had heard some very nice things about the Beauxbatons girls in particular.
He cut off what he was saying when he noticed Hermione and Winona at the foot of the stairs, ears going a little pink.
"Morning boys," Winona greeted them with an easy smile. "Excited for today?"
"Yeah, especially since we get to leave Potions early," Harry said brightly as the four of them began to walk towards the portrait hole, climbing through one by one and making their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Ron and Hermione went up ahead, bickering pointlessly about one thing or another – as was usual – while Winona and Harry hung back, chatting a lot more amicably about the coming Triwizard Tournament.
"Would you enter, if you could?" she asked him quietly.
Harry took a moment to think. "I dunno, maybe," he said, clearly torn. "Eternal glory isn't exactly something I'm dying to achieve, and it's not like I need the extra Galleons." Winona hummed, knowing it was the truth. Besides, Harry was already famous enough – and he hated it. Why would the Boy-Who-Lived want any more attention than he already had? "What about you? I know the twins are dying to find a way to get picked."
"Let them," Winona scoffed. "The last thing I want is to get involved in the Tournament. It just sounds like too much effort. Three extremely dangerous tasks?" she said in her best impression of Dumbledore's croaky voice. "I have better ways to spend my time than risking my life for a couple bucks and a shiny trophy," she shrugged, and Harry smiled at her answer.
The Great Hall had been fully decked out, banners floating atop every House table, all showing their animal mascot. The four of them wandered over to the red and gold one, and Winona spied the twins sitting a little away from the others, murmuring between one another quietly.
"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying, voice a little more gloomy than she was used to. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
Winona wanted to speak up, but Ron beat her to the punch. "Who's avoiding you?" he asked, sitting down beside them and already beginning to pile his plate high.
"Wish you would," snapped Fred in reply, irritated by the interruption. Winona sat down opposite them and beside Harry, reaching across the table to snatch some of the bacon off Fred's plate. He didn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in being defensive about his secrets.
"What's a bummer?" Ron pressed, looking at George.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," replied the other twin without so much as a moment's hesitation.
"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked them lightly, probably sensing the oncoming squabble and rushing to avert it. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen, but she wasn't telling," George told him bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"It was pretty funny, actually," Winona admitted to the Golden Trio once she'd swallowed her mouthful of Fred's bacon. "She looked about ready to transfigure him into a pillow."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Ron mused thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before," he said eagerly. Winona snorted loudly, making the youngest Weasley brother frown at her in offence.
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred before he could say anything in retort to her amusement. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"Who're the judges?" Harry asked curiously.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione with ease, like she were reciting it from a book – which, knowing her, she probably was. "Because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
They all stared at her, and she gave an important humph.
"It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
Winona's face scrunched in confusion. "What are you on about?" asked Ron in bemusement that Winona matched.
"House-elves!" cried Hermione, her eyes flashing, and Winona fought the urge to groan, hoping she wouldn't ask her to buy the badge again. The last thing she wanted was to walk around with a badge that read SPEW. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
Fred looked away, probably to keep from arguing with her over the cause. His eyes drifted to his plate, only to find it empty of the bacon that had been there a moment ago. His eyes darted up to Winona, who didn't even bother trying to look innocent as she munched on a rasher of bacon.
"There's a whole plate there, y'know," he grumbled, but she could tell from the warm glint in his eyes that he wasn't that irritated. She smiled at him sunnily before turning her attention to George and Hermione's conversation.
"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?" he was asking her patiently.
"No, of course not," Hermione said primly, "I hardly think students are supposed to-"
"Well, we have," said George, gesturing at Fred and Winona. When Hermione shot them a look of utter disapproval Winona shared a smirk with Fred at her ire. She was flooded with relief at their exchange. Was it her imagination, or had that gaping canyon between them just shrunk a little? "We've been loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them – they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world, don't they Win?"
Winona shot him a glare for roping her into it, but she couldn't help but say, "He's right, 'Mione. The Elves have the time of their lives down there. All you've gotta do is speak with one to know."
"That's just because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but before she could continue with what Winona was sure would have been a rousing debate, the owls arrived with the post, effectively cutting her off, much to everybody's relief.
Winona was just grabbing some pancakes when she realised Hedwig had landed on Harry's arm, little leg stretched out, a pair of letters tied together with twine.
"Sirius?" she asked Harry in a whisper, and he nodded, glancing at both envelopes before handing off the one with her name scrawled across the front.
Harry began to read his to his friends, but Winona was more interested in her own reply, shuffling slightly away from the trio and towards the twins, who were now happily discussing their plan to fool this impartial judge and get into the Tournament.
She quickly opened the envelope, fishing out the parchment inside. The words on it had been written hastily, like he'd been strapped for time.
Winona,
Are you stubborn? If so, you get it from me.
I'm already in the country, safely hidden. I won't be found any time soon. Don't worry about me. I am concerned about Harry, though. I know you're watching out for him, but with his scar hurting again…well, just don't stop watching him. Keep me posted about what's happening at the castle. And use the same owl as Harry – a different one every time, as well.
I hope to see you again soon.
~Sirius
"What's that?" Fred's voice brought her from her daze as she reread Sirius' letter. She sat up properly, subtly running her fingertip down the page, the parchment cool under her skin.
"It's a letter," she told him plainly, and he rolled his eyes so hard she briefly worried he'd give himself a migraine. "It's from Sirius," she continued once she'd enjoyed herself enough. She held it out for him and he took it with a smile, leaning closer to his twin so they could read at the same time.
"So he came back, then," said George with a hum, lifting a goblet of juice to his mouth.
"Wonder where he's hiding," mused Fred. Winona snatched the letter back, folding it delicately and slipping it into her pocket.
"Let's not wonder too loud, yeah?" she murmured, and he agreed with a nod.
The day passed slowly, the entire school abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Winona was more than relieved when the day finally ended, their Care of Magical Creatures lesson cut short by a half hour, and they all meandered back up to the castle to deposit their things.
Everyone but Winona walked down to the entrance hall without a bag – they'd been told they weren't allowed – and Snape looked like he desperately wanted to snipe at her for it, but even he knew that she was the one person in the castle that order didn't apply to.
In a way, her bag was kind of like a safety net. Part of it was simply practical – what if she had a vision, but was stranded without anything to draw on? But over time it had become something of a security blanket. She knew that she felt safer when she had it on her, safer when she could clutch the strap and know her supplies were within. On the rare occasions she went anywhere without it, she could feel the difference in herself, her anxiety growing and threatening to choke her.
She idly wondered whether she'd ever be free of it, but also whether she ever wanted to try.
Outside, it was freezing cold. She had her robes on, wrapped around her tightly, keeping the frigid wind from touching her skin, but the cold seemed to seep up from the very ground, soaking her toes in ice.
They were waiting out there a good twenty minutes, the sky black and the air biting, with absolutely no sign of the other schools' arrivals.
Winona had always felt the cold more than everyone else, liking to rug up even in the warmer months, just to be safe. She was eternally chilly, it was her cross to bear. She began to shiver, teeth clacking together as she shook.
"Cold?" came Fred's voice suddenly. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing behind her, a small smile on his face, blue eyes nearly luminescent in the dying light of the ending day.
The force of his stare was almost too much to bear, and she looked away, eyes back on the stars above them. "No, Fred, I'm trembling because it's so hot outside," she replied with her usual degree of sarcasm, rewarded by Fred's answering chuckle.
"Come here," he said, and she was just about to glance over her shoulder in confusion, only for her best friend to unexpectedly wrap his arms around her body. He pulled her back against his chest and began rubbing his hands up and down her arms, clearly in an attempt to warm her up.
Winona couldn't help but laugh at his solution. It was such a Gryffindor thing to do. "What're you doing?" she chuckled, gripping his arms and holding on, his skin hot beneath her own, like a source of heat in its own right.
"Keeping you warm," he told her, breath hot against her ear, and she had to make a conscious effort not to shiver at the sensation. The feeling of his arms, firm and strong, wrapped securely around her body, was making her stomach do funny things. Her insides seemed to twist and burn, but not in an unpleasant way. She could feel every jut and dip of his body against hers, and her skin prickled with awareness in a way she'd never before experienced – not even with Jeremiah.
She abruptly stopped laughing, taking a deep breath in an effort to regain her control, and she noticed that Fred had stilled from behind her. She wondered what might be going through his mind, what he could possibly be thinking, what his motivations had been in the first place. An innocent, playful gesture between friends? On the outside it may have looked that way, but from the inside, between the two of them, it definitely didn't feel like it.
"Hands off the merchandise, Freddie," came Lee's cheerful voice, abruptly breaking whatever silent, unspoken spell had befallen the pair. Fred's arms retreated, their weight disappearing from around her in a flash, leaving her feeling cold and exposed.
Winona shifted to the right, her own arms coming up to hold herself, but it was a cheap imitation for the warmth Fred had exuded. "Merchandise?" she forced herself to speak, glad the words sounded as playfully sharp as she'd intended. "I'm nobody's merchandise, Jordan."
"She's so cute when she's angry," Lee grinned like a giant dork, and she kicked him firmly in the shin in reprimand. He let out a curse that made McGonagall squawk, and Winona snickered at his expression.
From the other side of the pair, however, George wasn't smiling. He wasn't quite frowning, either. Instead there was a conflicted expression across his face, a kind of befuddlement, or maybe even a concern. Winona searched for the words to ask what was wrong, but she came up empty. Maybe because, deep down, she already knew.
Fred's words from the week before echoed unexpectedly in her head, remembering the awful things he'd said to her in anger. Hurt ricocheted through her, the same as it always did when she thought about it. She'd apologised for her behaviour, but he hadn't apologised for his.
But that was Fred, she supposed; he wasn't the type to apologise. He never had been. Winona wasn't even sure he knew how. She didn't dare turn to look at him, too afraid of what she might find reflected in his eyes.
Thankfully she was saved from having to face any of this, as a moment later someone near the front of the gathered Gryffindors was shouting for them all to look, and they turned as one to see some kind of giant carriage flying through the sky, its bottom grazing the tips of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. A dozen huge, winged horses were pulling it along, their coats glowing golden in the moonlight.
The large carriage landed, and a woman at least the height of Hagrid stepped out, her glamorous satin robes sweeping the ground, opals glittering on her fingers and around her throat. She greeted Dumbledore in a lilting French accent, and their Headmaster didn't even have to bend to kiss her hand in reply. They were a little far away for Winona to hear what they were saying, but she was more focused on the students spilling out of the carriage, anyway.
About a dozen boys and girls, all around their age, were stood clumped together, searching for heat. They were dressed in nothing but thin, blue satin robes, and were shivering even more violently than Winona.
The girls in front of her were giggling excitedly, and not even McGonagall's sharp glares could stop their tittering. "He's cute," whispered Katie, and Winona couldn't help but lean forward to engage.
"Who's cute?" she asked at a normal volume, and Katie, Alicia and Angelina all immediately shushed her, Katie's cheeks dark even in the low light.
"That Beauxbatons boy," her younger friend whispered, eyes on the group of shivering foreigners. "The one on the far right."
Winona narrowed her eyes at the boy in question, finding that she was right. He couldn't have been any older than seventeen, with broad shoulders, intense eyes and a jaw chiselled by Merlin himself. "Yeah, I can see it," she whispered back. The group of French teens began to wander past them, up into the warmth of the castle, and the girls watched with wide, appreciative eyes.
"I'd climb him like a tree," murmured Alicia sincerely, and both Winona and Katie let out snorts of amusement that made McGonagall scowl.
A few more minutes passed by, and Winona kept her eyes fixed firmly on the stars above them, halfheartedly searching for the arrival of the next carriage while trying desperately not to think about the way her body had hummed at Fred's touch. She wouldn't think about it. She would not think about it…
Her attention was snagged by Lee suddenly shouting, rather dramatically, "The lake! Look at the lake!"
A giant ship had appeared from the inky depths of the lake. It was creepy and skeletal, water dripping from its body back into the lake it had come from. An anchor dropped with a loud thud, and then a plank. People began to disembark, all of them wearing thick coats made of dark fur.
Winona watched as a tall, thin man emerged from the group, heading straight for Dumbledore, shaking their Headmaster's hand with a wide – however completely insincere – smile. They greeted one another amicably, and Winona watched in surprise as the man – whom could only be Karkaroff, Durmstrang's own Headmaster – waved forwards a student.
His face was revealed in the firelight, everyone around them began to mutter amongst themselves. It took Winona a moment to place him, and once she had she turned to Fred and George, both of whom were eyeing the young celebrity eagerly.
"Krum?" she asked in surprise. "Krum's a student?"
"You knew he was the world's youngest professional Seeker," George said, staring at Krum and Karkaroff as they ascended the stairs and disappeared inside the castle.
He was right, but she still hadn't known he was that young, nor had she known he would be coming to her school for the year. Angelina and Alicia were muttering excitedly between themselves from up ahead, the cute Beauxbatons boy all but forgotten.
All the Heads of Houses began to shoo their students back up the stairs and into the castle, blessedly out of the freezing cold. Winona stuck close to Fred and George's side so she wouldn't get swept up in the crowd. She gripped Lee's arm and yanked him back to the flats of his feet as he attempted to practically vault over Angelina in an effort to get a better look at Krum where he stood up ahead.
They all settled into place in the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons kids sitting with the Ravenclaws, the Durmstrangs with the Slytherins. Winona rolled her eyes at the Slytherins' smug expressions, turning to mutter a joke at their expense to George that made him choke on thin air.
Dumbledore greeted everybody enthusiastically, then proclaimed the feast to begin.
All anybody seemed to be able to talk about over dinner were the foreign students and the Tournament set to officially begin at the end of the feast. "I'll bet Krum's the one picked from Durmstrang," said Lee in between scooping spoonfuls of stew past his lips. "They'd be mad to go with anyone else."
"What about from Hogwarts?" asked Katie from where she sat to his left, opposite Winona. "Who d'you think'll be our Champion?"
"Well, if we fail – which is unlikely – then it'll obviously be Ange," said Fred loudly, and Angelina ducked her head in embarrassment as several people turned in their direction.
"Shut up, Fred," she muttered, but the words lacked bite, and Winona could tell she was secretly pleased by his very public endorsement.
"What d'you think the tasks will be?" asked George eagerly, a question that had come up loads in the last few weeks. Everybody was speculating on what the three tasks could possibly be. Would they be dangerous? Exciting? Something they'd never be able to see anywhere else? Winona was curious too, but she got enough sneak peeks as it was. She was looking forward to them being as much of a surprise for her as everyone else.
"Whoa," breathed Lee before anybody could respond to George's musings.
"What?" asked Alicia she she'd swallowed her mouthful of black pudding.
Lee blinked as though dazed, lifting a hand and rather rudely pointing directly at some poor girl walking past. She was drop dead gorgeous, with luscious silvery-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and not only was Lee dazed, but so were the twins, all of them staring at her like they were looking at the Holy Grail itself.
Winona thought the girl reminded her of something she recently seen, but she couldn't figure out what, or where. She saw Angelina humph, eyeing Fred in annoyance as he gaped at the girl like an idiot. "Close your mouths, you morons," Winona said quickly, "you're gonna catch flies."
"If we do, it'll be worth it," muttered Lee emphatically, and the twins nodded in absentminded agreement.
Picking up a small handful of peas from the bowl in front of her, Winona took aim and tossed them into Lee's still-gaping mouth. He choked on the tiny projectiles, and she grinned triumphantly.
"Ohh, me next," said Fred, pulling his attention away from the Beauxbatons girl and leaning back on the bench, mouth held open in anticipation. Winona rolled her eyes fondly, tossing a pea at him, which he caught expertly. George broke into wild applause, like he'd just witnessed a record-breaking stunt at the Olympics.
"I'm surrounded by children," Angelina muttered to Alicia, but Winona couldn't even find it in her to be annoyed by the comment. She just grinned affectionately at the twins, turning back to her shepherd's pie and listening as the group moved back to their musings on the Tournament tasks.
Things continued, lighthearted and easy, until the remains of their dessert were magically vanished from their plates, leaving them sparkling clean, and Dumbledore stood to address everyone as one.
"The moment has come," said their Headmaster, and Winona watched as the twins leaned across the table to get a better look, laser-like focus in their identical blue eyes. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
The crowd clapped enthusiastically for Ludo, but Winona couldn't help but notice the twins grimacing and eyeing the man with a simmering disdain. She filed the expressions away to be dealt with later, her attention focused on the beginning of the Tournament.
"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
Everyone seemed to straighten at the mention of the champions, and Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile.
"The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch," he said importantly, and Filch appeared from whatever dark corner he'd been lurking in, dragging a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It was old and worn but beautiful all the same. Winona leaned around Angelina so she could get a better look. "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways … their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament; one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Winona watched as Dumbledore withdrew a generally unimpressive looking goblet from the casket, holding it up for a moment for everyone to see.
It was full to the brim with flames, dancing an earthy, ancient dance within, glistening with a blue-white light. Winona's fingers twitched with the urge to try and encapsulate what she was seeing, immortalising it on paper forever. But there was a time and a place, and she knew that the others would be less than impressed if she chose that moment to pull out her sketchbook, so instead sat on her hands to keep them from straying.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
Everybody was still for an extra moment after Dumbledore had finished speaking, then the spell seemed to break and the whole Hall was full of the excited chatter of over a thousand students. Her friends all stood to their feet, but Winona remained in a daze, staring at the cup up front of the room, having the strangest feeling like she were forgetting something.
But, as always, it wasn't something that had already happened – rather, she was forgetting something yet to come.
"Coming, Winnie?" Alicia asked when she realised Winona had to move. Starting and blinking out of her stupor, Winona hurried to nod, gripping her bag and climbing to her feet after the others.
"An Age Line!" Fred was saying loudly as they joined the sea of students flowing out into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing — it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"
"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione from ahead of them, having heard every word. "We just haven't learned enough…" she added, expression twisting with concern.
"Speak for yourself," said George briskly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"
Winona rolled her eyes, confident she already knew the answer. Harry barely coped with the attention he already had. The last thing he was going to do was go out of his way looking for more.
She opened her mouth to say as much, only to run smack-bang into Ron's back, the boy having come to a standstill in an effort to get a better look at Krum, who was walking towards them from his place at the Slytherin table.
Winona felt chills break out along the skin of her arms, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold, or Fred's confusing touch. Karkaroff had stopped dead, beady eyes fixated on Harry, or rather his famous scar. His students behind him were gawking too, making no move to hide their interest in the famed Boy-Who-Lived.
She could sense how uncomfortable Harry was, and stepped around her friends, shifting ever so slightly in front of her cousin, chin tilted up as if to say: you want him? You gotta come through me.
And maybe it was an overreaction, but she couldn't deny just how much Karkaroff rubbed her the wrong way. The Durmstrang Headmaster's eyes flickered away from Harry, and fixed on her like daggers. His gaze trailed over her, and she wondered whether she was imagining the recognition in his creepy, unwanted stare.
"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," a familiar voice growled, and just as quickly, Karkaroff looked away.
He spun around to look at Moody, and Winona knew she wasn't the only one satisfied to see fear appear in the foreign wizard's eyes. "You!" he cried, voice dripping with malice and an age old accusation.
"Me," Moody agreed dryly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."
Snapping his mouth shut so fast that Winona heard his blackened teeth crack together, Karkaroff spun on his heel, promptly leading his students out of the Great Hall, presumably back to their ship.
Knowing she had to keep the exit clear, Winona gripped Harry's arm, leading him out along with their friends. "All right?" she asked him under her breath, just to be sure.
"Yeah," he replied, doing a good job of looking unaffected.
"What a creep – am I right?" she muttered, and Harry gave a little puff of laughter.
"Winnie!" came the twins' voices in unison, the call of her name more of a whine than anything else.
"That's my cue," she sighed. "I have a feeling I'm gonna be up half the night overseeing these idiots and their latest scheme."
Harry smiled, shaking off the unsettling encounter with Karkaroff. "Good luck," he told her quietly.
"Come on, Winona," said George, too impatient to wait any longer, bounding over to her like he had springs attached to his shoes. "Time's against us," he added dramatically, scooping up her hand in his and eagerly tugging her down the corridor, weaving in and out of the Gryffindors all slowly meandering their way up to the Tower.
"Pray for me!" Winona cried back to Harry in jest, and she just caught sight of his grin before he was swallowed by the crowd.
Fred and Lee were up ahead but they reached them quickly, coming to a stop by their side, panting from exertion.
The boys said nothing as they bounded their way through the portrait hole, nearly tripping in their haste to get to their dorm. "I'll meet you guys there," Winona told them.
"What? Why?" whined Fred.
"Because I want to put on something more comfortable if I'm going to be up all night making sure you don't blow yourselves up," she retorted as she turned to leave, hearing Lee's snort follow her up the stairs.
She took a lightning shower, changing into some old, checkered sleep pants and a paint-stained teeshirt, then slipping some fuzzy socks onto her feet. She was just finishing up brushing her hair when the other girls made it back to the dorm, chattering animatedly amongst one another.
"You certainly took off in a hurry," commented Alicia upon seeing her sat on the edge of her bed, impatiently working at a stubborn knot in her hair.
"Oh, you know me," Winona replied vaguely, "places to be."
"You're leaving?" Angelina asked in surprise.
"Just for a few hours," she said, giving up on her hair and just piling it messily atop her head where it would remain out of her way. "I'll be back."
"Where could you possibly be going dressed like that?" asked Hope critically.
"Well, let's just say I'm not meeting the Queen," she replied, dry and unbothered as she scooped up her bag and made her way towards the door.
"A booty call? Really, Winona?" asked Angelina in a disappointed voice.
She spun back around, frown pulling at her face. "For your information, I'm actually going to go hang out with the twins, make sure they don't accidentally poison themselves in their latest scheme," she said curtly, eyes narrowed. "What exactly was it that crawled up your arse and died, Angelina?"
Her friend suddenly looked apologetic, but Winona was beyond caring.
"Whatever," she said, giving a shrug. "I'll see you guys later. Don't wait up."
The boys' dorm was a familiar space, almost as much as her own dorm. She thanked Merlin – not for the first time – that the twins and Lee were the only Gryffindor boys in their year. Their whole year was rather small compared to the others, in fact. Mrs Weasley had told her once that it was because they'd been born at the height of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's power.
The middle of a war wasn't exactly the most conducive place to be having babies, so the birthrate for that whole period of time was a little spotty.
Winona burst into the room without bothering to knock and found the boys all already changed into their pyjamas, George and Lee hovering over a cauldron while Fred leaned against the poster of his bed, flicking determinedly through George's Potions textbook.
"How's it going?" she asked, letting the door click shut after her, then locking it for good measure.
"Just making a checklist of all the ingredients we'll need for the potion," said Fred cheerfully.
"What's the plan if we don't have everything?" she wondered.
"You can nick Harry's cloak and do a supply run," said George, looking up from where he was counting out his amount of lion-fish spines to shoot her a teasing grin.
"I'll do no such thing," she replied primly, making a beeline for Fred's bed. She bounced on the mattress for a moment before settling herself back against Fred's pillows and digging into her bag for her art supplies. "Look, I've already got my fuzzy socks on," she added as though it were an airtight argument, lifting her leg and wriggling her toes at them playfully.
The twins exchanged an eye roll before diving back into their task.
"African sea salt?" Fred asked them quickly.
"Check," replied Lee, and Fred scribbled something in the margin of the textbook.
Winona smiled at them fondly as she fished out a pencil. It was chilly even with the fire burning, and she only found herself a few minutes in before she started to get cold. Without so much as a second thought she lifted Fred's blanket and crawled beneath it, burrowing into the feathery warmth it offered and using her fingertip to smudge the graphite of her work.
Considering it was one of the twins' numerous whacky, harebrained plans, it was actually relatively peaceful in the dorm that night. The twins were murmuring to one another quietly, George obediently stirring the potion as the recipe specified. Lee had had a long day, and he'd passed out already, collapsing to the floor next to his bed, snoring away pleasantly.
The twins had covered him with a blanket, but otherwise couldn't be bothered to move him.
There wasn't really anything Winona could do to be of any help. She was rubbish at potions, and she too was feeling the effects from the excitement of the day. She knew she really should have gone back to her own dorm, but Angelina's cold words kept her away.
Besides, Fred's bed was so soft and warm, and it smelled just like him. Her eyes began to droop shut, and she could feel herself slowly succumbing to sleep.
At some point one of the twins wandered over, and she knew, as she always did, that it was Fred. He gently pulled her sketchbook and pencil from her hands, placing them on his beside table. She was too tired to so much as open her eyes, murmuring vaguely to him with no idea what she was actually saying.
She heard his low chuckle like music to her sleep-fogged brain, and wondered whether she imagined the way his fingertips traced across her face as she dozed. She felt warm and safe and perfectly at home. And she fell asleep easily, thoughts swimming with nothing but of Fred.
A/N: Unrelated to this story, but would any of you be interested in a Bucky/OC story set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe? And would anyone be interested in beta reading it and giving me some feedback?
I've been working on it for a few weeks now, and already it's very close to my heart. I'd love to know if any of my readers have any interest in that as a pairing/story concept. Let me know!
My review highlight this time goes to inkyvlaudy – thanks for your review! It made me so happy to read what you think so far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.