Chapter 18: Mistakes Were Made
Kat looked over at Boston to see that her hair was drying curly.
Boston didn't like curly hair, Kat knew. Ever since they were 11, Boston had made sure that her hair was always stick straight, with either a potion or magic. At one point when they were 12, Boston had tried something new with her hair and ended up burning off half a meter. She had an adorable little bob for the rest of the year.
"Hey," Kat nudged her friend.
Boston looked towards her.
"Your hair," she whispered.
Boston took hold of the end and examined it. Her green eyes bugged out slightly, and she practically flew out of the Great Hall.
Kat sighed.
Boston looked good with curled hair. It fit her face well, maybe not her attitude, but it suited her face. Kat wished her friend would embrace who she was.
She looked over to where Ginny was sitting next to Ron and Harry, and Hermione. They were all talking excitedly about the TriWizard Tournament that Albus had mentioned earlier.
Honestly, Kat couldn't really care too much about it. It wasn't like she could compete. Only wizards over 17 could enter. Technically, by the time the other schools got to the school, Boston could enter, but Kat doubted she would.
She was staring at Harry, wondering if he would be dragged into this mess like he was every year when George's voice broke her thought process.
"Where did Boston go?" he asked.
"She went to fix her hair," Kat answered.
"She looked pretty upset." He seemed actually concerned at Kat had to wonder why. He hadn't been this concerned before, but she supposed Boston had never spent as much time around the Weasleys as she did these last few days.
"Yeah, she doesn't like it when people see her hair curly, that's all." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough.
George looked over to where his sister was sitting and seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"I'm going to go check on her unless you want to," George offered.
Kat shook her head. "Good luck," she said. "If she hexes you, it is not my fault."
George chuckled a little, but all Kat could manage was a smile. She watched him get up and go after her.
It wasn't that she didn't care that Boston was upset. It was just; she didn't have the energy.
Kat was still consumed with thoughts about last year with that damn Bogart. Lupin was crazy to bring in something like that to the class.
She had heard that everyone had to face it.
Talking about what everyone's fears were was the main topic of conversation for weeks.
Hermione's was failing all her classes.
Draco didn't get a chance to go, but Kat already had a pretty good idea of what it was.
Ron was afraid of spiders. It wasn't meant to be funny, but she could picture 5-year-old Fred and George using their tiny pranking skills so nicely at that age that Ron's fear turned into something cute for her.
It turned out that Cedric had a pretty big fear of dragons, and Lee was afraid of muggle clowns.
She had that dream off and on.
The crushing black.
She shuddered just thinking about it.
George wasn't quite sure why he was following Boston. He hadn't been close enough to her to do this before, and he doubted knowing one of her secrets permitted him to do it now, but his feet kept moving towards Gryffindor Tower.
He got to the Fat Lady's portrait to see Boston outside it, and her wand brandished at the Lady.
"Hey, Woah, what's going on here, Boston?" he asked.
She turned to him, and her wand still pointed at the portrait.
"She is threatening me!" the Fat Lady bellowed.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Of course not!" the Fat Lady whined.
"Not you," he told her. He faced Boston again. "Boston?"
She just glared at him then turned her attention back to the Fat Lady.
"I can not let you in without the password," the Fat Lady told the black-haired girl.
Boston conjured the image of Mcgonigal in cat form as she did every year when she was trying to get into the common room. That was her personal password, so she didn't have to speak.
"I need the password," the Fat Lady said again.
Boston bared her teeth at the portrait and looked close to setting it on fire.
"Woah! Hey," George came up and put a hand on Boston's shoulder, lowering her wand. "Fat Lady, I don't think Professor McGonagall would like to hear that one of her students can't get into their house because you won't accept her password. She gave it. You need to let us in."
"I need a verbal password," the Fat Lady argued.
"No. You don't." Boston looked up at George. He gave her a tight smile.
Boston crossed her arms and went back to glaring at the painting.
"Fine. But if she threatens me again…"
"I'll assume she had a good reason," George interrupted as the portrait swung open.
Boston stomped into the common room, and George followed behind her, the portrait slamming behind him.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Boston spun around, a scowl still on her face. She gave him a stiff nod.
"Kat said it was something about your hair," George tried.
She just nodded again.
"I think it looks nice curly."
She bared her teeth at him.
George put his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm not sure what's going on, and I know that I can't understand you in the same way Kat can. Do you want me to get her?"
She shook her head; her expression softened to something a little sad.
"I think I know the spell that will fix your hair if you want," he offered.
She shook her head again.
"Right," George sighed. "Do you want to be left alone?"
Boston looked him in the eye then. Strong green eyes pierced his. She nodded once and started towards the girls' dorms.
"Right, well, my doors open if you ever want to talk or whatever," he said. She stumbled slightly up the stairs but didn't turn around.
George stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He wondered what Kat was feeling right now. The World Cup was hard on her, and he wanted to make sure she was alright. He thought about going back to the Great Hall and checking on her, but he promised Boston he would be in his room if she needed something. Though he knew there was no chance she would need him, he was going to keep his promise.
Resigned, he made his way to his dorm room he shared with Fred and Lee. No one else wanted to room with them.
At some point during dinner, Kat and Boston had dried off. Boston's hair turned into something that looked a bit like a whirlwind. It was curled and a bit wild but nowhere near as large as Hermione's.
Dumbledore had announced that the TriWizard Tournament was being held at the school this year, which explained the other Weasley's excitement and secrecy. However, Fred was already planning on sending a Howler to the house to make his distaste for the secret known.
Dinner ended quickly after that, as many students were too excited about the visiting schools and the upcoming tournament to eat much.
Kat had pointed out Boston's hair as they stopped eating, causing Boston to bolt out of the Great Hall so quickly it was almost as if Kat had told her that her hair was on fire. When Fred thought back, he hadn't seen her hair curly ever. It was always very straight.
George had left soon after when he noticed the strange behavior. It was odd. It wasn't like George cared about Boston before.
"What's going on with Boston?" Fred asked Kat.
She shrugged. "No clue," she lied.
"Sure, Kitty, and you're 2 meters tall."
She shot him a glare. "What do you care?"
It was Fred's turn to shrug. "I don't."
"Then why ask?"
"It's polite."
Kat scoffed. "Whatever." She threw her hands up and started to leave.
Fred wasn't sure what had just happened, but he knew that it wasn't his fault. She did this too often, made him feel like he had done something wrong when she was just in one of her moods.
Fred ran to follow after her.
"Kat!" he called after her, but she didn't turn around. "Damn it, Kat, come on."
Kat kept walking. The unfortunate part for her was that Fred's legs were so much longer than her's.
Fred grabbed her upper arm and forced her to stop.
"What?" she grumbled.
Fred nearly laughed out of sheer irritation. "Seriously, what is going on with you?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, Freddie," she said smoothly.
He shook his head. "Look, I know the World Cup was hard on you and Boston, and I'm sorry that you…"
Kat cut him off. "Shut your bloody mouth!"
"I'm just saying…"
"No! I'm just saying. You," she took a breath in, trying to collect her thoughts. "You dragged me away from her," she whispered low and threateningly. "I will never forgive you for that."
"Good!" Fred was yelling now. "I didn't ask for your forgiveness. And to be clear, love, I would do it again." He had bent to be level with her.
She slapped him hard. The stinging in his cheek radiated across his whole face.
"I hate you!" she yelled. Kat turned to storm away.
No. Hell no, Fred thought.
He grabbed her, this time around the middle, and picked her up. She was protesting and hitting his arms as he dragged her towards a broom cupboard that Madam Hooch used for the first years' training brooms.
"Put me down!" she yelled as he closed them into the small room. He cast a quick silencing charm on the door and locked it for good measure. "Let me out, Fred!"
He put her down, his face hot with rage. "Hate me! Go ahead and hate me all you want, but I will never be sorry for dragging your sorry arse to safety!"
"It wasn't your place!" she raged.
"My place! My place?! Come off it! I'm your friend or whatever, Kat!" He had never really yelled at her like this. They disagreed, often, but they never screamed at each other like they were now.
"Boston needed me!"
Fred had to laugh. "For someone who is so good at reading that mute slag, you really miss everything she bleeding says."
She pounded her fists against his chest. "Shut the fuck up! Don't you dare talk about her like that!"
"Why not? She can take care of herself! She told me to drag you away!"
Kat froze. She froze and dropped.
Fred hadn't seen her go that still since that Bogart last year.
He knelt down in front of her.
"Kat?"
"She wanted me gone," she whispered.
Fred huffed. "No, you stupid fucking bint. She wanted you safe, and she knew you weren't going to leave her."
Rage flared in her brown eyes quickly. "Oh, and you were more than happy to leave her there!"
"Yes! Gods yes! I'd do it again. She can take care of herself! You were distracted and emotional. Do you know how many curses I dodged getting you to that fucking hill?"
"Stop it!"
"That would have been Boston trying to dodge them."
"Shut up!"
"And she would have been distracted trying to get you and Hermione back to the Portkey!"
"I said shut up!"
"Make me!"
And then her lips crashed into his.
Fred froze.
Then he moved. One hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. The other hand went to her hair; he fisted his hand around the short strands and pulled her closer to him, completely flush against him.
Her hands moved to the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, tugging his tie apart. Fred felt the air hit his chest at the same time he heard buttons clatter against the stone floor.
Fred pulled on Kat's hair, forcing her head back as he started kissing, sucking, biting her neck, finding her pulse point with his tongue.
A moan slipped from her lips, and a shiver ran up his spine; his hands tightened around her.
"Fred," she breathed.
He pulled back. Looking at her nearly drove him over the edge. His trousers were already uncomfortable, but now it was just painful.
Her hair was a messy halo around her head. Her eyes were closed, and her perfect lips were parted slightly. Her chest rose and fell in uneven intervals. His gaze hooked on her chest. Her shirt needed to come off. Her fucking muggle bottoms needed to come off. Everything needed to come off. He needed to see her, finally see her. Not when she was hurt, not when she only saw him as a friend. Now. Right fucking now.
He let go of her, and the little whimpering sound she made made his head go fuzzy. When he pulled that offending shirt over her head, her eyes went wide. Sweet Merlin, he could fall into those eyes.
He pulled her quickly onto his lap, core already hot against his painful erection. She straddled him, and even with that, she was so short they were eye to eye.
He nipped his way down her neck again, and her hips started moving in a hellish sort of way. His mouth found its way to the top of her breast, his hand kneading the other.
"Fuck, Fred," she breathed.
"Damn, love, you are amazing," he murmured against her skin.
She pulled at his hair and his shirt, and his belt. Her hands were everywhere.
Then they were nowhere.
She pulled back.
Fred looked at her, his eyebrows knitting together. She fell back off his lap and clambered to her feet.
She was looking around the floor.
"Kat?"
Her head swung to him.
"Is everything okay?"
She found what she was looking for, her shirt. She quickly pulled it over her head and started to comb through her hair with her fingers.
"I'm sorry, Freddie. I don't … I can't …" she was just stammering for an excuse.
Fred sighed. Right. "Don't sweat it, Kitty Kat. It didn't mean anything. Just stress."
She jumped on that. "Right! Stress." She had red creeping up her neck, and Fred wondered if that was new or if that was from what they had been doing. "I should um … I should check on Boston."
"Right. Boston." Fred had difficulty keeping the edge from his voice, but she didn't seem to notice.
She pushed past him and out of the broom cupboard.
Fred felt his rage return. He didn't know how it happened, but he wound up punching the wall.
Fuck. He was fucked.
He promised George.
Kat didn't think of him like that.
Boston was always in the fucking way.
Fuck.
Welp. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.
