Fern woke the next morning to her roommate's frantic reminders about class. She groaned, peeling herself from the warm navy sheets, and joined Daisy, getting ready for the full day of arbitrary, seemingly endless classes.
It wasn't that she was bad at school as far as grades and accomplishments went, but rather, she felt like she'd never really caught her stride. Even now, in her last year of school, there was no rhythm. She was always running around like a chicken with its head cut off, finishing papers, apologizing to professors, and begging her peers for answers. Her brand of schoolwork had paid off, seeing as she'd got a majority of Outstanding grades on her O.W.L's and felt relatively prepared for the N.E.W.T exam in a few months. But now that she was nearing the end of her time in school, she wondered if it would've been less of an effort and time commitment to just do the work as assigned in a timely fashion.
It was noon before she had time to catch her breath and think of something other than school. Lunch was a welcome sight as she walked into the Great Hall but before she could enjoy the moment, she caught sight of her younger brother sitting alone, and her frustration and curiosity from last night were reignited.
"Nev," she announced, sitting down across from him.
"Fern," he muttered in a tempered tone.
She exhaled and rolled her eyes at his mood.
"I'm not cross at you," she noted, eyeing him the best she could from over the book he was buried in.
"That's good. You've no reason to be."
She stared down at the food between them. Every year the quiet, timid kid she'd had to bribe to try and make friends at school became more and more outgoing, outspoken, bold….more of a Gryffindor.
"You're not going to tell me about last night, are you?"
"I…I already have and it's your fault if you don't believe me."
"Bloody hell," she hissed under her breath. "Fine, I believe you, are you happy now?"
He brought his book down an inch and finally made eye contact. She knew he wasn't perceptive enough to realize she was lying, and still incredibly suspicious of him and his whereabouts but decided that it would be better to actually have some evidence before she started accusing him of anything.
"You do?"
"Yes, yes," she reassured him. "I'm sorry, I was just tired and annoyed that I had to do rounds."
"Oh," he mused, dropping his book fully. "Are you sleeping alright? I could give you some Valerian root to chew on before bed it's…usually…Fern?"
His voice tapered off but she wasn't even listening. Neville's right hand, splayed out on the cover of his book, was cracked with a deep vernacular wound, still pink from a recent infliction. She stared in horror at his bloodied hand and reached across the table to seize his wrist.
"Neville," she hissed, harshly.
He tried to pull away but she was faster and stronger.
"When did this happen?"
"It's…it's nothing. Only one detention," he stuttered, eyeing the rest of the table in embarrassment. "Just got unlucky s'all."
Her angrily pounding heartbeat drowned out the rest of the noise from the lunch rush. He was lying to her, again. Her mind raced with all the things that he could be doing out and about with the twins but seriously doubted that any of them would improve his chances at staying unharmed at the hands of Umbridge.
"I'll give you one chance to tell me who you were with."
Neville opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to think of a lie or an argument before finally pressing his lips into a reserved line.
"Fern, please, they're my friends," he pleaded. "I know you don't like them but—"
"Friends don't get friends into this kind of trouble, Nev!"
"They don't get me into anything…I'm as much a part of the trouble as they are," he insisted, shaking off her grip and standing up to leave.
"You can't expect me to just let you get hurt like this if Gran knew —"
"Don't…don't use that against me…like you always do," he whispered with a harsh glare. "I know what I'm doing."
She craned her neck to stare at him in disbelief, acutely aware of how tall he'd gotten.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt," she pleaded, taking extra care to sound less accusatory, in the hopes that he would see her as less of a threat. "I'm only trying to help."
"No, you're not," he countered as harshly as he could, even though it was still relatively tame. "You hate that I am doing something without getting your permission first. I don't need help, Fern. Just leave it alone…please."
She squinted her eyes but remained silent, letting the not so timid boy trudge off without her ripping him to shreds.
In all her years of knowing him, he'd never dismissed her like this. He was a sweet, shy boy who put his family above everything else. There was no way that he would hold some prank or hi-jinx to such high regard…without some kind of influence. She glanced down at the Gryffindor table and caught sight of Harry Potter leaning down to whisper something to one of the twins, who in turn, leaned across the table to repeat it to Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown. She rolled her eyes at their obviousness. If Padma was involved, of course, her sister would be too. And if Harry was involved, then it was certainly no good at all.
The weather for the rest of the afternoon and evening mimicked her mood. The rain of late fall was neither refreshing nor relaxing. It smelled of winter, and brought with it, frozen winds and only a taste of what was to come in the winter months.
Fern pressed her forehead to one of the tall windows in the Ravenclaw common room and contemplated how much the near-freezing droplets would hurt her bare skin. It was coming down pretty hard so there was a good chance it'd leave her burning, but no doubt, she'd catch a nasty cold. She glanced away from the moonlit grounds down below and failed at taking interest in the abandoned book in her lap. Despite trying, she hadn't been able to tear her thoughts from the interaction with Neville from earlier in the day. He'd never really been a serious boy, even when they were little, but today, he'd been uncharacteristically stern. It'd been enough to make her at least consider that the right thing to do would be to accept his wishes and leave him alone but the image of his bloodied hand was making her sick to her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was in over his head. He had a habit of being blind to the obviousness of his circumstance and acting without plan or consideration of pros and cons. Some called it bravery, and his house prided themselves on being collectively blind, but she knew what it was - stupidity. She'd never understood the appreciation that others had for the first person willing to risk their neck despite the risk.
She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the glass again. It was sharp, cold, and just enough to bring her sense to life for a few seconds. The minimal chatter around her in the darkened common room disappeared beneath the roaring storm outside. She wanted to go and stake out the seventh-floor hallway. Admittedly, it was overbearing, and would probably instigate more problems between her and Neville than answers but she couldn't fight off the feeling. Before she could find her common sense, her feet were moving towards the tower exit.
The castle thundered underneath the storm and drowned out her footsteps on the moving staircase. She held her breath as she entered the seventh floor and walked swiftly against the stone wall to stay hidden. For a touch more secrecy, and perhaps a flair for the dramatics, she extinguished the fireplace, and torches with a flick of her hand and waited in the shadows.
It was nearly half an hour later when she sunk to the floor and sat on the cold, dark floor and an hour after that when she nearly gave up.
There was no sign of anyone, until, she heard the faintest sound of a door closing somewhere behind the stone pillar to her right. She held her breath and listened to the lumbering steps as they came around the corner, again, from the direction of the astronomy towner. She smirked as the thunder reminded her that Astronomy was an impossible excuse tonight.
What happened next was the convergence of three terrible things at once.
She revealed herself from the shadows and came face to face with Fred Weasley, who looked surprised by her presence for a mere second before looking decidedly more put out by something over her head.
She turned to see what was more important than her obvious gotcha moment but her excitement turned to despair as a pink figure stood at the top of the steps. Umbridge waved her hand, igniting the hallway to reveal her standing a little too close to the troublesome twin. She knew how it looked before Umbridge even opened her mouth.
"Boys and girls are to be more than eight inches apart," she giggled. "Ms. Longbottom…Mr. Weasley, I am sure that you're aware of this rule."
She frantically glanced at Fred in hopes that he would tell the truth but he took a step closer and snaked his arm around her waist.
"Eight inches, professor," he cooed, pulling her tight. "How'd you know?"
Fern's eyes went wide at his obvious attempt to anger the already unhinged woman.
"No, professor," she hissed, pushing him off of her. "It isn't like that —"
The woman clicked her tongue and held up a hand to silence her.
"Detention for the both of you," she warned, oozing with pep.
She turned her head frantically to Fred again who was looking quite content with a wicked smile on his face.
"Professor, please," she pleaded, trying to make it sound like less of a beg.
"Enough," the woman shrieked. "Detention tomorrow evening. Now, off you go."
Without another word, the woman disappeared back down the stairs. She stared at the doorway in shock before wheeling around to confront Fred.
"Godric that woman…Ah well, what's another one, right, Longbottom?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Another one? I've never had a detention before, you prick. Let alone, one of Umbridge's."
"Oh, well it's not so bad," he assured her, bringing a hand out of his pocket. "There's a bit of scarring but it doesn't hurt for too long."
She looked down at his hand and let the air be sucked out of her lungs. It was the same writing as Nevilles.
"I'm not upset about the pain you imbecile, I'm upset because I have to go in the first place and it's your fault!"
He leaned against the pillar next to them and stared down at her with a curious look on his face.
"My fault?"
"Yes, your fault," she hissed. "Like always." Of course, he would deny it, she thought.
Her accusatory words seemed to have the smallest effect on him as he rolled his eyes and scoffed at her.
"How?"
"Who else's fault could it possibly be, Weasley?"
"Oh, marvelous question, here's a thought, and it is just a first draft theory so do be gentle, but yourself? You were out frolicking, just like me, and therefore, bound to get caught with or without me," he explained through gritted teeth.
She shook her head and gave him a look of disbelief. They might have gotten off if he hadn't felt the urge to be such a smart ass, how could he not see that?
"I was not frolicking," she huffed. "The only reason I'm even up here is that I have to make sure that you, don't corrupt my brother. Thusly, your fault."
"I'm corrupting your brother," he repeated in disbelief.
"Yes."
"This might shock you but he is perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on his own."
"Only because he's been hanging around the likes of you for far too long!"
He squinted his eyes at her and leaned forward. She wouldn't let him use his size to intimidate her so she stayed put and furrowed her brow back.
"The likes of me? What is wrong with you?"
"You think there's something wrong with me?"
Fred scoffed and tipped his head back, closing his eyes in the process. "I think there are a whole lot of things wrong with you, love."
"Don't fucking call me that. I'm not one of your dumb fucking groupies, waiting patiently to be reduced to a pet name for your pleasure," she hissed, plunging a finger into his muscular chest. "Refer to me by my fucking name or don't refer to me at all, asshole."
"Bloody hell," he grumbled, returning the look of anger to his face. "Alright, I'm terribly sorry. Let me rephrase that. I think there are too many things wrong with you to count, let alone fix, Fern."
"That's big talk for a self-absorbed sociopath with pyromaniac tendencies and a severe maturity deficit!"
He looked caught off guard and brought his face down close to hers again. She stared back defiantly and let him search her eyes.
"Wow," he breathed after a moment of silence.
"Wow, what? Too many big words for you? Was poor little Freddie too focused on his tricks to pick up any comprehension skills at school? Do you need me to dumb it down?"
"If you insist, since dumb seems to come so easy for you," he retorted.
She let out a groan of frustration and dug her finger in deeper.
"You are maddening! At least I've got two brain cells to rub together. Your head is probably filled with fuck-all!"
Her voice bounced around the hallway as she stared at a wide-eyed Fred. She thought for a moment that'd she'd made a dent in his ego but his lips pulled up into an amused smirk. Her temper was usually a little more dependable than this but it was too late to go back now.
"My head," he repeated with a smile. "Hm…I'm more curious about your head."
"You're a bastard," she hissed, ignoring the heat radiating off of her face. He always reverted to perversion to throw her off guard, and unfortunately, it always worked.
"Normally you'd be right but this time, I dare say that you started it."
She glared at him and shook her head. He wasn't meant to be enjoying this. She'd hurled her best at him and it hadn't even hurt him in the slightest. Her brain told her to walk away but she stayed planted in place.
"Well, now I'm ending it. Yelling at you isn't worth the strain on my throat," she exclaimed.
His eyes flickered with even more amusement as the words left her tongue. She could've screamed with frustration when she realized what she'd said.
"Fern, darling," he cooed, leaning down further into her bubble. "I'd be more than happy to provide some strain on your throat. Just say the word."
"Fuck you."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he sighed, shaking his head. "A high-strung, good girl like you shouldn't have such a colorful vocabulary."
"My choice of words is no concern of yours," she blurted, internally cringing as she sounded like a child having a tantrum. It was difficult to admit to herself, but it seemed as though he had the upper hand.
"Well I didn't hear a single curse in that," he cooed, smirking devilishly. "Go on, don't be shy now, please continue your onslaught of obscenities. I'm a big boy, so I can take it, not like the posh blokes of Ravenclaw."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You don't get to talk down on anyone and you don't get to tell me what to do."
"I'm not, Fern, if you were as perceptive as you pretend to be, you'd have realized that I'm asking nicely. Can you do that for me, love?"
"Don't fucking call me that," she hissed, pressing her whole hand against his chest to keep him at a distance.
"There it is. Anything else, darling?"
"You're a prick."
He threw his head back in a laugh. "You sure I'm not a fucking prick?"
His tone made her blood boil. How had getting detention come to this? How had she let him weasel his way underneath her skin? She momentarily thought of the wand in her pocket but knew that he'd be falser than that.
"So now you're making fun of me?"
"No, I've just always found you very curious," he said, leaning into her hand. "Tell me something, Fern. Are curse words the only improper thing you do? Is everything else pressed skirts and studies? Do nasty words fill the void that a life without excitement has left you with?"
She looked at him like he'd slapped her straight across the face. This conversation was going to get her no closer to figuring out the Neville mystery, but now it didn't matter. She was going to finish her feud with the intolerable twin, showing him once and for all, she was not a woman to be reckoned with.
"For fucks sake, how do you stand yourself? The melodramatic attitude must be exhausting. A life without excitement? That's really what you want to go with?"
"I call it as I see it," he barked confidently with a smile.
She couldn't believe that he was actually lecturing her about the philosophy of life when he had next to nothing figured out.
"So, what, to lead a life worth living I'm supposed to torture my peers without a care in the world? I'd hardly call being a nuisance to everyone I come in contact with, exciting."
A flicker of anger crossed his face. She tried not to make it intimidate her but he caught her wrist and yanked her hand away, pinning it to her shoulder.
"At least it's something," he growled.
"Yeah, a thorn in everyone's side!"
His damn of self-control broke and he shook her arm violently.
"Then you're a fucking raincloud! Godric, how do you not see that you suck the life out of every room you're in? At least I break even with smiles but you? You're basically a Umbridge in training with your prim and proper attitude and delusions of order! It's fucking boring! YOU are fucking boring and I — "
Without another thought, she closed her eyes, brought her other hand back, balled in into a fist, and swung.
She felt her knuckles make contact with his ridiculously shaped nose and opened her eyes in time to see his eyes ablaze with anger.
"Fucking, shit," he bellowed. "Ow!"
"How's that for boring?" She yelled at his scrunched face.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The words tipped her over the edge and she slung her fist at him again, this time catching his arm. It barely seemed enough to catch his attention so she let it all out. Every frustration, fear, anger; came out in punches, kicks, and slaps, all aimed at the very tall redhead who had his back up against the pillar.
"You're fucking mental," he roared, seizing both of her wrists and turning them around so that she had her back to the stone.
"Fuck you," she yelled.
"Stop kicking me you wretch of a woman, bloody hell!"
"You can't hurt my feelings, dumb fuck," she bellowed back, as he yanked her wrists above her head so that she couldn't break free and used his weight to stop her from moving. "There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself a million times."
The words registered in her mind the same moment they escaped her mouth. It was the truth, but she'd never said it out loud or even acknowledged it herself. She did in fact sling evil sentiments at the abyss in her self but for some odd reason, they'd never made a dent. Fred's words, however, didn't hurt in the slightest. On the contrary really; they ignited her.
He snarled at her words and held her still. Her heart beat so fast she thought she might pass out. She met his eyes finally and watched him digest what she'd said. He looked surprised. She couldn't blame him of course, she hadn't ever meant to say it out loud, let alone to someone she hated. She expected him to drop her, and leave because of the suddenly serious, uncomfortable topic of conversation but his face did something she didn't expect. He moved closer with a look of curiosity.
"Go on, try," she whispered, daring him despite her nerves. "I know you want to. I give you detentions, I confiscate your products, I target the rest of your family too because you're all fucking annoying —"
"Fuck you," he hissed.
"Fuck you too."
He glanced down at her lips as she spoke and held her tighter.
"You're a fucking bitch," he whispered, eyeing her with wary.
She threw her head back into a sharp cackle. "Is that all you've got?"
He snarled at her flippant attitude and brought one hand down to hold her throat while the other kept her hands above her head, scraping her knuckles against the stone in glorious agony.
"Shut the fuck up you insufferable, uptight swot," he purred angrily.
Her eyes went wide and she saw a flash of regret cross his face.
"Bloody hell…I…" he stammered, easing up on her restraints.
"What else," she croaked from beneath his grip. The words, his seething presence, and the painful embrace pumped adrenaline into her veins and an inexplicable hunger into her throat. The thought of him fighting off hatred to be close to her set her chest ablaze.
His eyes snapped back to hers. She was daring him, goading him, perhaps even begging him to continue. It was dramatic but she thought that she might die if he stopped now.
"I've always thought that you were an evil bitch, you know that?"
"I know," she whispered. His chest rose and fell rapidly making his breath heating her face with every puff.
"But now," he murmured low and slow, increasing the pressure against her throat. "I think you're desperate."
Her eyes went wide and he inched closer.
"A needy, desperate, good girl…with a dirty fucking mouth."
"Yes," she moaned.
His eyes went wide again, clearly surprised by her sensual reaction but he didn't move away.
"Bloody hell," he whispered. "You like this, don't you?"
He didn't give her a chance to answer and pressed himself up against her with a force that made her spread her legs to make room for his extended knee. It brushed against her gloriously, fanning the flames that were already ablaze. She could see the same soft unexpected look in him that she felt herself. He hadn't known that he would like it either. Just as she wondered if he was feeling an ounce of what she was, she felt growth in his pants.
"You like it….so you're a fucking whore, too. Aren't you?"
She whimpered and slid down the wall a little until she could press harder against the rough material of his pants.
"Aren't you," he whispered again, bringing his thumb up from her neck, and teasing her bottom lip. "A fucking whore."
She opened her mouth in response and let him slide his finger up her tongue and back out, smearing her lips with spit.
"Yes, yes…fuck," she whispered.
"Shut the fuck up," he grunted, gripping her chin so that she had to tilt her head further back to look up at him. "I don't want to hear that word from your mouth ever again."
She swallowed hard. He looked down at her with a serious look but his eyes were on fire. She glanced down at his neck, practically panting from the sight of his veins bulging from anger.
"Good girls don't curse. Do they," he asked forcefully. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you."
She snapped her eyes back up to his and slowly shook her head.
"No," she sighed.
"Stop. Talking," he hissed. "Let me rephrase that since you're such a fucking now it all.
My good girl doesn't curse. Does she…Fern?"
All she could do was whimper and shake her head as he slowly released her chin. It was incredible. The words seemed to pour out of him as if he'd been planning them and scratched each itch that she'd ever had.
"Good answer," he moaned, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "She's mine. So I get to tell her what to do with her pretty little mouth…pretty little throat…and pretty little cunt."
Ferns eyes blew wide open at the last bit of the sentence and she realized that she'd been grinding against him with helpless desperation. The realization felt like a shot to the head and the fantasy was broken.
The hallway appeared behind him; they were still very much in public. Fred came into view as himself again, and not a domineering figure to fuck all of her troubles away. She bristled, acutely aware of his forceful grip. She pulled away from his grip with all her might, causing him to stumble backward. His eyebrows shot up at the movement and he released her not a second later, backing away equally as shocked that they were still in the school.
She leaned against the stone trying to catch her breath, and find her footing again as they stared at each other. Fred Weasley had called her many things in the past, and she guessed that maybe they'd always stoked the fire in her chest but this was…something else. She could tell that if she didn't leave now, it'd become an incurable hunger, which she could not afford, especially with him.
"Fuck…Fern….I'm sorry I —"
"Stop," she whispered, talking a step around him, towards the moving staircase. "Just…stop."
"Fern," he said, matching her stride, trying to catch up. "I'm sorry —I didn't mean —I thought that —"
"Just stop," she bellowed, halting him with her voice. "I…I have to go."
He looked at her, stunned, and disheveled but didn't move another inch as she made it to the door and took one last look at him before sprinting down the stairs.
