Chapter Six

Fred

"We shouldn't have drunk so much," George said miserably. Fred only hummed in agreement, keeping the ache in his head at bay. Usually the two were all smiles, but that morning Fred felt like a living Inferius and the Inferi didn't seem like the smiling sort.

When they entered the Great Hall, puffy-eyed and dry-mouthed, the roar of the other students nearly made his head explode. Lee was still sleeping when they left Gryffindor Tower and so the two shuffled over to their younger siblings, who were sitting with Harry and Hermione.

"Don't you two look rested," Hermione said with distaste.

"I think we had a bit too much to drink," Fred said, following his words with a long gulp of water to soothe his dry throat. Ron snorted and nearly spat out his pumpkin juice.

"Yeah," he said, stopping to cough, "I think we all figured that out last night when you idiots had your shirts off tryin' to climb the girl's staircase and serenade them."

Ginny grinned, swallowing her food before speaking. "You two have really awful voices."

Fred shared a look with his twin, then they both shrugged and said, "Don't remember."

"I'm surprised you don't have amnesia with how many times you hit your head," Hermione chimed. Her eyebrows were high and her mouth tight, which Fred knew was usually a look of disapproval she saved for their younger brother.

Harry sat across from Fred and was grinning at the exchange taking place. "You weren't letting the slide staircase stop you," he said.

"Yeah," Ginny added, "You idiots must've tumbled down them ten times."

"No wonder I've got bruises," George said with a snort, piling eggs on his plate. Fred was about to chime in that he also had bruises, but the morning mail began sweeping in and everyone's attention diverted upward.

The mail on the first day of school was usually scarce, consisting mostly of things students had forgotten at home. Fred turned his attention to the plate in front of him and nearly jumped out of his skin when a shiny blue box landed right in his eggs and scattered them all over his lap.

For a moment he just stared at it, hung over brain taking its time. A Chocolate Frog? Oh!

"Oi, Freddie, you've got a secret admirer?" George said, reaching over and stealing his Chocolate Frog.

"Hey, hands off!" Fred said, snagging it back and tucking it away in his ratty school bag. He chanced a quick look at the Slytherin table and met eyes with Parkinson for only a brief second before looking back to George. "I'll fill you in later."

Harry and Ron had missed the entire exchange, but Hermione and Ginny gave him expectant looks. He only grinned and was glad for the distraction of McGonagall passing out the time tables. When she handed Fred his, he and George looked at them for a moment, then switched as she'd gotten them mixed up.

"Ugh," George groaned. "We've got Transfiguration first thing in the morning."

McGonagall was still standing there trying to find Ginny's schedule and paused, shooting him a look. "Imagine how excited I feel to have such a rambunctious group for my first class of the day," she said, giving them a knowing smirk before passing their sister her schedule and continuing down the table.

"Way to make it awkward," Ron muttered, not bothering to look at his time table, focusing on his pile of sausage instead.

"I've got Transfiguration first, too," Hermione said in a distracted tone, eyes scanning her schedule with fervor.

Oh, that's right. Hermione was taking a few seventh year classes. The thought brought Parkinson to mind and his eyes darted to her again. She was sitting next to Montague, fork in hand, eyes closed. Merlin, he knew the feeling.

"Which seventh year classes are you taking?" he asked, turning his attention back to Hermione.

"Transfiguration and Charms," she said, finally pulling her eyes from the parchment to look at him. "It was a hard choice, but they only let us take two."

Part of Fred was disappointed. He was hoping she was also taking seventh year Herbology, so he could see if he had it at the same time as the fifth years who got bumped up to his grade. If he had Herbology with Parkinson, he'd have endless opportunities to pester her.

Fred checked his schedule. Herbology was third after Transfiguration and a free period. Not too long to find out, then.

The morning actually passed pretty quickly. Transfiguration was dreadful, of course, but the free period sped by while he brought George up to speed with Parkinson, the two sipping on water and nibbling toast while they talked. By the time free period ended, they were feeling close to normal.

"It'd have been nice to have her play informant," George said as they walked down to the greenhouses. "But it was a stretch."

"Points for trying," he said with a shrug.

On the first floor, he saw a familiar short-statured sight in front of them, walking in the same direction. Fred grinned and then nudged his twin in the ribs. When Georgie looked at him, Fred pointed at her back and mouthed, "Parkinson."

George's grin grew to match Fred's and they sped their walk, coming up on her and each taking a side. "Morning," they said in unison. Parkinson grimaced, but kept her vision straight ahead and didn't look at either of them.

A stream of Hufflepuffs were also heading for the greenhouses and Fred felt a flare of triumph in his chest. A whole greenhouse full of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and poor little Parkinson was all on her own. She was going to be so easy to pick on without her git of a boyfriend there.

Parkinson seemed to have already known she was going to be without fellow Slytherins because her face didn't become anymore grim than it already was.

"Not smart to turn down the peace offering," George said, prodding her to talk. Parkinson tried to speed up, but her short little legs were no match for them. All she offered was a sigh once they were back at her side.

When they reached the greenhouse, Parkinson shot inside. All three of them couldn't fit through the door at once and the twins smacked off the stone doorframe in their haste to keep up with her. Alright, point for Parkinson. When they managed to get through the door, they saw she was sitting in the far back corner by herself. The twins looked at each other and rolled their eyes. As if that was going to stop them. They waddled past their Gryffindor classmates and made their way over to her. Fred took the seat next to her at the double tables and George took the seat in front. Lee shuffled in right after and plopped down next to George, then thunked his head on the desk. Apparently he hadn't noticed their company.

Parkinson was staring straight ahead, redness creeping up her neck. "Oh, come off it, Parkinson," he said, giving her shoulder a nudge with his. "You're in for a treat. Georgie and I are a riot in class."

"So I've heard," she said with distaste.

Professor Sprout bustled in and began fretting with a few potted plants at the front of the class and everyone turned toward her, prepared for class to start. Fred took the opportunity to dig the Chocolate Frog out of his bag. He slid one arm around the back of her chair and leaned in close, Chocolate Frog in the other hand. He could smell the traces of perfume on her, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day at Flourish and Blott's.

"See the funny thing -," he whispered, "- is that the Chocolate Frog I gave you was in a dented box. Odd how this one is perfect."

Parkinson could play games all she wanted, but he played them better.

"Fuck off," she said, loud enough that Professor Sprout looked up. Fred's arm had already abandoned her chair and he was now sitting in his proper place, trying to look like an upstanding student with his book already open.

"Miss Parkinson, I do not tolerate rude language in my class. Ten points from Slytherin."

Parkinson shot him a death glare and he offered her a wicked grin in reply, leaning back and tipping his chair up on two legs. He was sure to leave the Chocolate Frog near her arm which she pushed away in a fury once Sprout turned to write something on the mobile blackboard.

"I hope you like your seats," Sprout said with her back to the class. "That's where you'll be for the rest of the year."

Fred couldn't help the laugh that snaked out his throat, but he quickly covered it with his hand and made it into a cough. Parkinson's entire neck was red and the color was beginning to creep up her cheeks. Oh, it was perfect. She was stuck with him all year. George threw a grin at her over his shoulder and Lee finally lifted his head off the desk and turned to see what George was looking at. Confusion and grog took over Lee's face, as well as several red markings from lying on the desk. He began to say something, probably asking what the bloody hell they were doing sitting with Parkinson, but Sprout hushed the class and began her lesson.

For the first half of class, Parkinson took notes like a mad woman. When he noticed her quill had stopped, he chanced a look at her and saw she'd fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence. Now that she was unaware, he studied her face and saw that, despite the metric ton of makeup she had on, dark circles hung beneath her eyes. Maybe she'd been up all night drinking, too. Though he doubted it. Parkinson didn't seem the sort capable of having fun.

But he was. Fred glanced up at Sprout to make sure she wasn't paying attention and then dipped his quill in the ink with a grin. The sleeve of her robe was pushed up, as his were as well, to dispel the heat in the greenhouse. When he put the quill to her arm, he trained a careful eye on her face to make sure she wouldn't wake.

Not even a little stir. The next half hour was spent doodling rude words and pictures all over her arm and hand. His favorite was a crude drawing of Montague with a unibrow, the words next to it reading: My boyfriend has a stick up his arse.

Well, it might be childish, but he was having a laugh over it.

By the time class was coming to an end, Fred had his things all put away, acting innocent as ever. Parkinson was still snoozing when Sprout dismissed class and he stood, then grabbed the back of her chair and jerked it up on its two hind legs. Parkinson sprang to life, trying to cling to the table and knocking her inkwell over on her notes in the process. Fred laughed and let her chair clang back down on four legs.

"Class is over, sleepyhead," he said with a grin. "See you tonight."