Chapter 12

Fred

Fred knew he was in trouble. Georgie's words - people might think you fancy her - rang through his head time and time again. Merlin's pants, he did, didn't he? A little, tiny, annoying, rude snake brat. And he fancied her.

The realization came that morning, when she and Zabini were down on the Pitch. He hadn't even known it was her at first. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and not speck of makeup on her face, it was a shock to see her pass them with a light sweat on her brow. He half-expected her to say something smart as she'd passed them, but she only looked up at them as she went by. The sun caught her brown eyes and Fred felt his ears warm at an alarming rate. It was difficult to not turn and watch her retreat back to the castle.

It made him anticipate Herbology to the point that he nearly dreaded it.

Parkinson sat next to him and, as usual, ignored him. He'd grown used to it, though now he had a nagging in his stomach to make her talk to him. This was dumb. He knew better. It was Parkinson, for Merlin's sake, she'd never have anything to do with him. But...they'd laughed that night in the forest, hadn't they? Nearly couldn't stand. As they had that morning when he saw her, a heat rose to the tops of his ears.

Probably best to just ignore it until it went away. That was what he told himself anyway, despite tearing off a small piece of parchment and scribbling a note before pushing it her way.

'What do you want for the seeds?'

He was trying to look as though he was diligently listening to Professor Sprout's lecture, though his peripheral was trained on Parkinson. He and Georgie had tried offering money, but it was no good. She was a Parkinson, afterall, and probably had no need for extra money.

Parkinson gave the note a stiff look, hesitated for a moment, then swept it up with her hand. She held it guarded under her arm for a moment while Professor Sprout looked their way, then slid it so it was hidden between her open textbook and her chest. Fred watched her head dip slightly, reading the message, before looking back up to the front of the class.

Much to his dismay, she went back to taking notes. She did seem distracted, though. He caught her glancing down at the note a few times, once or twice sighing as she did. Eventually she lost all concentration on class and bounced her quill up and down on the little note in thought, leaving little smudges in the corner as she did.

This was new. She was...considering? Or at least considering what to respond, which was more than he usually got out of her. Fred sat up a little straighter in his chair when she scribbled something in a hurry, then slid it back over to him.

'I'll give you the seeds if you never talk to me again.'

Fred ducked his head to hide a grin from Professor Sprout, quickly scribbling another note and sending it her way.

'Not a chance.'

He watched her as she read it, watched the way her lips pursed. But also how they curled up just slightly at the corners. And how just a slight pink rose to her cheeks.

His heart gave two thumps in his throat. Parkinson scribbled another reply and slid the note over to him. Professor Sprout was looking their way again, talking about how some plant or another was getting along quite well. He waited until she looked away before glancing down at the parchment.

'Let me think about it.'

Fred should have been embarrassed by how quickly he drew the note to him and scratched out another reply before pushing it toward her.

'Talk after dinner at the tree?'

He didn't even bother looking back to the front of the class, his attempts at seeming like he was paying attention were gone. Parkinson glanced down at the note, then back up to the front of the class. She rubbed her thumb along her index finger, back and forth, in thought. She knew he was watching her, he could see her eyes dart to the side, long enough to note him staring at her from her peripheral. She looked back down to the note, then back up to the front of the class again. And then she gave a single nod.

Fred couldn't stop the grin that grew across his face. Not then, not after class had ended. Not through lunch, or the rest of the day. Georgie quirked a brow at him at dinner, but Fred only shook his head with a grin. He'd fill Georgie in later. If he told him before then George would want to go along. And Fred, despite knowing it was stupid of him and that nothing would ever come of it, wanted to go alone.

A few times during dinner, Fred peeked over at her. Montague was at her side, though turned away from her and talking with his friends. From what he could tell, no one talked to Parkinson during the entire meal and she never looked up from her plate. The whole ordeal with her father's affair seemed to have made her a bit of a social pariah. Either that or people were afraid to talk to her because of Montague. Fred glanced at him, then back down to his meal. The image of Parkinson's arms, rubbed raw and slightly bruised came to mind, as did the picture from the Prophet when she flinched. It made his stomach tighten. His parents were probably the best couple alive and Fred knew, without a doubt, that his dad would never in a million years hurt his mum. He couldn't even imagine it or imagine hurting someone you were supposed to love.

There was no way Montague loved Parkinson, not if he treated her like he did. And Merlin knows how much worse it could be behind closed doors. But, did Parkinson love Montague? Fred shook his head and went back to dinner. He was supposed to be ignoring it until the feelings went away, right?

After dinner had finished, Fred watched her lean over and mutter something to Graham, who barely looked over his shoulder and dismissively waved her off. "Prat," Fred muttered under his breath, gulping down the rest of his pumpkin juice before standing.

"Right," he said to the crew around him. "Hunt tonight? Should be Malfoy and Carrow."

Lee and George, much to Hermione's dismay, began rhythmically banging their goblets on the table as some sort of war drum. The game consisted mostly of seventh and sixth years, though a few of the fifth year boys and one fourth year played too. The gang had taken to eating meals together to form battle plans, except for Hermione who sat near them only to try and dissuade them.

"Oi, where you off to?" asked Lee. Fred just grinned from ear to ear.

"Don't worry about it. See you lot tonight," he said with a wink, disappearing toward the door before anyone could get another word in.

Parkinson was already outside by the time he reached the Great Hall doors. A quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Montague was still chumming with his mates - he was. Good, in the clear.

Since a few students were milling about in the early autumn sun, he trailed behind her at a distance. When she made it to the forest and disappeared behind the thick trees, he sped up. Still, though, she beat him to the tree. Parkinson sat on the low limb, the same he'd found her on before, but with both legs facing him.

"Name your price," he said with a grin, stopping a few feet short and crossing his arms over his chest.

Parkinson just looked at him for a moment, eyes slightly narrowed and head cocked to the side. "I want full immunity from your game," she said, crossing her arms over her chest to match his.

Fred laughed, eyebrows raising. "And what am I going to get for your full immunity? Two or three pitiful seeds?"

Parkinson's eyebrow arched high, as it often did. "I wasn't done with my demands yet," she said flatly.

Fred grinned, letting out another laugh. Honestly, he expected no less out of her. "Go on, then, give me your demands."

She drew in a breath and began again. "I want full immunity from your game," she said. "And in return for a continuous supply of the seeds -" She paused for a moment and looked him over. There was something in her eye as if she were debating. "And in return for the seeds," she started again, "I want Graham worth double points in your game."

Fred was powerless to stop the twitching at his mouth, a full-blown grin taking over with a laugh. "Okay, then," he said, walking closer toward her. If she was alarmed, she gave no indication, though he doubted she would have. "Full immunity in the Hunt, Montague worth double, in exchange for a continuous supply. All of the seeds, as you harvest them."

Parkinson nodded. "All of them."

Fred had closed the gap between them, her knees just a few inches from his chest. Merlin, wrong of him to think it, but he probably could have looked up her skirt if he wanted to. Shaking the thought away, he stuck his hand out toward her. "Shake on it?" he asked.

As they had that morning, Parkinson's lips pursed in some attempt to hide the smile growing over her face. Her eyes, though - they gave her away. "Shake on it," she confirmed, reaching out and taking his hand in her own.