That night she dreamt of what might have come after if she hadn't run away. Her head filled in all the gaps and gave her a show of Fred pressing himself into her over, and over again, calling her a good girl when she whimpered his name and a fucking whore when she moaned too loud.
She didn't tell Daisy, or Mandy, or any of her friends the next day. Mostly because she was embarrassed but also because she was still in shock.
The thoughts plagued her and nearly made her forget that she had a less than savory obligation this evening where she would be forced to see the one person she didn't want to. She avoided the Great Hall, the library, or any other common areas all day long, in the hopes of prolonging her avoidance of him.
Daisy pestered her around dinnertime about how the recognizance mission went, as she'd noticed her absence last night. She gave some half-hearted excuse and another about why she couldn't come to dinner. She spent the rest of the evening hold up in her room, fighting off images of Fred fucking Weasley with his hand around her neck.
She refused to acknowledge the heat beneath her navel whenever she thought of their encounter. She couldn't remember exactly why she'd decided to push him off of her but thanked her subconscious for being somewhat alert.
What would she do about him? Hating him was easy. It always had been. But now, something else stirred inside of her. She felt equal parts disgusted and elated to see him again but tried not to dwell too long on the complex feelings.
When the evening bell tolled, she rolled her shoulders back and marched to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to face her punishment, which oddly enough, had become the least of her worries.
Fred was already seated with a black quill in his hand, near the front, flanked by two other Gryffindors. She knew he was going to be there and she'd seen him at least once a day for seven years, and yet her heart nearly stopped.
He was hunched and tense. She could see his flexed back muscles through the thin white button-up of his uniform. Others were shaking or crying but not him. He sat like a statue, practically frozen with defiance. She was sure that his pride and bravery would give Umbridge no satisfaction. She tore her eyes away when the pink menace noticed her and motioned to a table towards the back.
"I will not break rules," Umbridge mewed across the room with a sickly sweet smile. "Twenty lines should suffice Ms. Longbottom."
She stared the woman in the eyes, deeply regretting every action that had led her to this moment, and nodded. A stirring terror burrowed itself in her stomach. She could hear silent tears and tempered breaths around her. This was going to hurt. Umbridge waited for her to lift the quill to the paper before reclaiming her throne at the head of the room.
The first line, in red, didn't do much but by the second "break" she felt a deep gash open. It was such a sharp, and foreign pain that she audibly gasped. Her eyes scoped the room, hoping that no one had heard, but she had no such luck. Fred stared at her from over his shoulder. She met his gaze just long enough to shoot him a glare and then let her eyes fall back to the page in front of her.
She made it ten lines without so much as a tear but by then, her blood was running free and pooling a little on the desk in front of her. She whispered a vanishing charm and whisked it away before finishing the last lines quickly, biting her tongue to keep from crying out.
Umbridge came to inspect the front of the class's work first, and Fred left before she did. When it came time for the evil woman to surveil her work she leaned over the bloodied table and smiled.
"I hope I don't see you in here again, Ms. Longbottom," she tutted. "I'd hate to take your Prefect status away. You are dismissed."
She mumbled a poisonous thank you and practically ran from the room.
The stairs beneath her blurred into a stone slab as tears fell down her cheeks. She searched her head for some sort of healing spell but the knowledge escaped her amid so much distress. She flew through the hall and stalked towards the only place she knew she could be alone.
The door to the prefect's bathroom groaned as it opened with her utterance of the password. She peeked inside and sighed with relief at the sight of the empty room.
When alone in the big gold room, she let her cries come freely. The sobs from deep in her chest, clearly mingled with things other than the pain of her hand, echoed around the room and nearly overpowered the sound of the faucets, filling the swimming pool-sized bath. Her hand stung but somehow the mark was worse. Her smooth flesh was now broken by sharp, bloody lines that might be there forever. It was completely irrational, but the wound made her feel ugly.
After about ten minutes, she dried her tears, stripped off her uniform, and chose soothing lavender bubbles for the bath. The steaming water was a welcome feeling for her sore body. She hadn't realized it but she'd been tensing all her other muscles in a feeble attempt to keep the sharp pain at bay.
She closed her eyes and sunk into the water, trying not to think about how Neville had gone through the same thing. There was a certain sense of pride she got from being her brother's keeper. She watched out for him, stuck up for him, and kept him from being hurt but it wasn't enough. Not only did he not want her help, but he seemed hellbent on keeping her in the dark about the nefarious activities that were getting him hurt. If he'd just told her what he was doing in the first place, everything; the detention, Fred, her hand, could've all been avoided. But it was too late now. She was stuck with a rebellious, secret-keeping brother, a feud gone wrong, and a fucked up hand.
The bubbles swallowed her whole as she dipped her head in and held her breath, desperate for a moment of complete silence.
She curled into a ball and stayed beneath the water until her lungs were screaming at her to free them of the pain, or perish.
The cold air rushed against her face as she shot back up through the bubbles and caught her breath.
"Trying to drown yourself?"
She yelped and spun around frantically trying to cover herself as the voice of Fred Weasley disturbed her for the second time this week.
"What are you doing here," she yelled, clutching her chest and staring at him across the steam.
"Lifeguard duty," he declared.
She rolled her eyes and turned away in a fury.
"You can't be here," she hissed.
"Bloody hell, you prefects are — "
"— no you idiot I mean that specifically, you cannot be here with me like this."
He was silent for a beat and then she heard him sit on the edge of the tub, and dunk his feet in.
"No peaking, I promise," he assured her in an almost sincere voice.
It was pointless to argue and she was too exhausted to even try. He sensed her resignation and began kicking his feet in the water.
"How was the good girl's first detention?" He asked.
"Terrible," she shot back.
"I expected as much," he laughed.
When she was sure her chest was entirely covered by the bubbles, she turned back around and shot him a glare. He returned the look with a delighted smile.
Her jaw clicked from biting down too hard. He was gloating but she wouldn't allow him to rile her up any further. Obviously, he wanted her to snap at him and curse at him to leave but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He stared her down with the same intensity she was radiating. Neither of them seemed motivated to move.
Why had he even come here?
Something in his expression cracked when he realized she wasn't going to speak without further encouragement.
"Your hand," he inquired softly. "Not fatal…right?"
She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes again.
"No, but…I…I just don't want it to scar."
"Oh, no, it won't. See, I've started writing with my left hand to give it a break and you can hardly even see the marks anymore."
He leaned towards her, brandishing his left hand. She stared at him hesitantly, worried that any movement would give him quite the show. She sunk deeper into the water before moving towards him and reaching up to take his hand, letting his palm flatten out against her own. Sure enough, there were faint pink lines that no longer looked like a phrase scattered on his hand. Absentmindedly, she caressed the lines with her other hand, making sure there were no raised lines or permanently damaged skin. He exhaled sharply as she held him between her two hands.
For a moment, she forgot who he was.
She forgot what'd they done and what it would look like they were about to do if someone walked in now.
There was no history; only palm against palm.
She looked up at him and nodded, letting him know that he'd made his point just fine, but he didn't move. Her heart was fluttering in her chest but she couldn't decide what it was trying to tell her. His fingers began curving around her wrist, just enough for her to notice.
"Fern about last—"
"How do you know the password?" She asked.
He looked taken aback like he wasn't expecting the conversation to veer this way, and then smiled.
"I know everything," he assured her, in a calm, almost casual voice, before letting go of her and leaning back with his hands behind him.
"How did you know that I was here," she asked, this time more curious, and less accusatory.
Her hand tingled from where he'd touched her. If she'd known that he would pull away because of her inquiry, maybe she would've just stayed quiet. On the other hand, this was Fred Weasley, whom she despised, and giving him reasons to touch her should not be on the forefront of her mind.
She couldn't decipher which she wanted more.
To strangle him, or let him strangle her…again.
"Lucky guess," he sighed.
"Liar," she mumbled.
"Fern," he laughed with an amused smile and a wink. "If I'd known for certain that you were here, then I would've come much faster."
She rolled her eyes and rested a shoulder against the ledge he was sitting on.
"You know a lot about coming fast?"
His smile grew wider and he threw his head back with a short laugh. "Not usually but I guess it depends on how good you are."
She sized him up and half thought about just leaving but there was a twinkle in his eye that was making it difficult to breathe. Certainly, he wasn't trying to pick up again where they'd left off.
"I've never had any complaints," she mused, staring him down.
He cocked an eyebrow. "You?"
"Yes, me, you twat," she scolded, swatting his kneed with her hand. "Your surprised tone is not appreciated, by the way."
He chuckled and looked past her towards the stained glass before closing his eyes. She furrowed her brows and scooted a little closer. He looked stoic — relaxed even, and for some reason, she didn't like it.
"Really," she demanded. "No questions? No rude remarks? No 'who would want you?' Nothing?"
He opened his eyes in a flash and leaned forward onto his knees to get closer to her.
"I know who would want you."
The response caught her off guard and something dark flashed across his face. If she wanted to, she could reach up and touch him but her nerves kept her arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"You do," she asked softly.
He smiled again, this time, less menacingly, and nodded.
"I'm an idiot but I'm not blind," he said matter-of-factly. "Wouldn't mind being a little deaf though… at least when I'm with you."
"Haha, you're hilarious," she blurted, rolling her eyes and splashing him a little. "All you want is a laugh."
He rested his forehead in his hands and stared down at the water.
He was quiet for a few seconds but his face was suddenly twisted deep in thought.
"Fern, I think you know…what I want," he admitted softly.
Her breath hitched in her chest. She didn't know why but it hadn't occurred to her that they were going to talk about what had happened last night, let alone continue it. She stared at him in disbelief, trying to think of something witty or smart to say to get him to leave.
"No," was all she could manage to get out.
"Yes, you do," he countered, sitting up straight.
"No…I don't," she practically whispered.
He smiled softly and shook his head. "Figures that you'd be a know-it-all except about the things that matter."
"The things that matter?"
"Yes Fern, the things that matter. Fire, water. Sun, moon, Hot, cold. You, me."
He winked with the last bit and his smile sloped like he was telling a joke. She could see why he'd always had girlfriends over the years but she wasn't going to let him believe she was a prize to be won with meaningless flirting.
"Bloody hell," she sighed, shaking her head. "You really think I'm going to fall for that? Don't you have some underclassmen or groupies to hook up with?"
"Nah," he mused, rolling up his sleeves. She watched as he broke eye contact and swallowed hard. "In light of recent events I've found that my tastes have…changed."
Her breath caught in her throat. He was bringing it up.
They were going to talk about it.
Desire bloomed through her chest.
"Changed?"
"Yes, to things…less boring."
He stopped smiling and stared at her with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"I thought you said that I was boring," she stammered.
"Hmm…did I?"
"In fact, if I recall correctly, you said that I was so fucking boring that —"
She caught the shift in his eyes before she even noticed his movement and then he was standing in front of her in the water, clothes and all.
She clutched her chest, being sure that she was covered, and backed away.
"Fred, you can't just do that," she babbled shrilly, hitting her back on the edge of the large tub.
He didn't seem to hear her as he moved forward.
She spread her hand across his chest, losing her concentration on keeping him at arm's length as soon as she touched him.
His chest. Him.
"Fred," she whined, clutching his shirt, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
"What did I tell you," he asked in nothing more than a breath.
His features were sharp with confidence but she could see the glimmer of unease in his eyes.
He thought that she was going to run away again.
She hadn't decided if she was actually going to when he reached up and caressed the side of her face, moving the hairs that clung to it.
His fingers stroked her jaw and then pulse point before wrapping around her neck.
She moaned but a knock at the door cut her off.
"Hello?"
She went wide-eyed and shoved Fred away as fast as she could, immediately glancing to the door in a panic.
"Fuck" she cursed, reaching for a robe.
Fred climbed out of the tub before she could worry about him seeing her naked and hid behind a pillar by the door.
They were screwed if it was someone nosey. She might be screwed regardless.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to lock the door," she yelled, making sure her robe was tight before unlatching the door and coming face to face with Hufflepuff prefect, Ernest Macmillan.
His eyes went wide at her, even though she was completely covered.
"Oh Fern, hello! Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No, no, not at all," she reassured him, glancing nervously at Fred who was peeking his head out to watch her. "Um this is as much yours as it is mine, I must've accidentally locked the door."
He peered around her and raised his eyebrows.
"No problem at all…can I join you?"
She moved aside quickly, making room for the thin blonde boy.
"I was actually just leaving so it's all yours!"
"Oh, you're leaving?"
She didn't watch him as she picked her clothes up from the floor and glanced towards Fred's hiding place again.
"Yes, I've still got some homework and uh N.E.W.T studying to do," she explained, scooting around the boy who seemed to be frozen in front of the door.
"Too bad," he mumbled, leaning out of the way.
She grabbed the handle and nearly yanked the door open before it dawned on her that it probably wasn't the best idea for her reputation to leave Fred for Ernest to find. She turned back to the blushing boy and clutched her ear in fake panic.
"Oh Ernie," she cooed, dawning a puzzled look. "Do you see my earring anywhere? I seem to have lost it."
He didn't give her another look before committing his full attention to the floor a few feet away, even going as far as getting on his hands and knees to feel across the tile. She watched him for a moment and then frantically opened the door.
As if he'd read her mind, Fred tiptoed from around the corner and made a b-line towards her. She shuddered as his large hands wrapped around her waist to move her out of the way. Once he'd fled into the hallway she waved her arms in the air in a grand gesture of realization and purred across the room.
"Oh, how silly of me, it was in my pocket. Thank you for all your help, have a lovely bath!"
She didn't wait to see his face or hear his response before slamming the door closed and rushing down the hall, with only a robe to shield her from the cold air. Thankfully, the rest of the castle seemed to be settled in for the night, so the passageway was empty.
"You know that kid?"
For the second time in the night, she jumped as Fred made his presence known.
"Stop scaring me like that," she hissed, turning around to shove him. His large stature hardly even registered the force, much to her frustration. She turned on her heel and stalked down the hall. He walked close behind her and leaned forward to speak into her ear.
"Hufflepuff right? Is he your boyfriend or something?"
She spun around and glared at him.
"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"
A darkness passed over his eyes but she didn't care. She was done playing this game and she was done being his toy. She was done letting him think he had any sort of power over her.
"You hang out with him?"
"We occasionally have Prefect rounds together, not that it's any of your business," she huffed.
"Well you must've done something to him on those rounds because he wants to fuck you," he snapped.
"No, he does not, you twat."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm. She hissed in displeasure as he pulled her into a deep window frame, hiding them from view.
"He was hard as soon as he saw you," he hissed.
She stared at him in disbelief.
He held no claim to her and even if he did, the last thing he had to worry about was Ernie from Hufflepuff.
"Well, that makes two of you."
Her eyes darted down to his pants, still half tented.
His lips twitched and his smile faded. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, making the distance between them seem like nothing. She stared into his dark eyes for a moment longer before glancing back down to the outline of the hardness in his pants.
"Do you like that I'm hard for you," he whispered.
She bit her lip to keep from whimpering. He stepped forward, inching her closer to the wall. They were about two inches from being in the same position that they were in last night but this time, she didn't back down.
She tipped her head back and leaned against the wall without his help, staring him straight in the eyes.
"You like to think about me to get hard, don't you?"
His eyes widened a bit and his cheeks flushed.
"What if I said yes…" he breathed, taking another step. "What if said that's what I did last night…and again this morning."
The realization hit her like a train and lit a fire in her stomach. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her veins. This time, she had power over him. His thoughts of her were on display, instead of the other way around.
It was delicious and maddening.
He took another step, looming over her, pressing her into the wall.
"Show me," she whispered, tipping her head back to expose her neck and chest.
He looked completely bewildered with his pupils blown.
She glanced down at his lips but he stayed quiet.
Silence lingered and she wondered if she'd actually said it out loud, or if he'd even heard her.
In an urge of something foreign, she doubled down on her statement and caressed the neckline of the robe, exposing her chest just a little more.
"Fucking hell," he mumbled senselessly, closing the gap between them entirely.
"Go on," she whispered, thrusting her pelvis against his.
He sucked in a breath and pressed his forehead onto hers. She didn't peel her eyes away from his as he unzipped his pants. She held her breath until something warm and hard-pressed against the thin fabric of the robe covering her stomach.
His mouth dropped open as he took himself in hand and began stroking.
