The next morning, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Emily's body was heavy as she dragged it out of bed and to the showers to wash away the remnants of the previous night, all the leftover hairspray, the smudged lipstick, the smell of Fred's cologne still lingering on her skin...

Oh.

Emily's stomach flipped and twisted at the prospect of seeing Fred again. She stood beneath the rush of water in the shower for longer than usual, desperate to come up with what to say.

She was distracted as she dug through her trunk to find her soft cashmere jumper, as she lined her eyes with black eyeliner and ran a shimmery gloss across her lips. She wanted to look nice, but not too nice — it was Fred, after all, and she didn't want too much effort to make everything weird.

At breakfast in the now-decorated-down Great Hall, Emily wrapped a napkin around a muffin, saving it as an apology for Violet who was still asleep in the dorm after an all-nighter waiting for Emily to get back from the Yule Ball. Of course, Emily didn't have the luxury of staying in bed because Violet was insistent on reminding her that she needed to sort things out with Fred.

"Before it gets messy," she had said. And Emily groaned.

They couldn't take back what had happened — she didn't know if she'd want to even if they could. But what about Fred? What if it had all been a mistake? How could they bring things back to normal after what they did?

The questions and anxieties pounded in her head until she felt dizzy. She dropped herself into a seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table and squeezed the bridge of her nose to dull the ache.

"Rough night?" came a familiar voice from behind her. She turned around to see George, though his twin was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," she said, her voice a harsh scratch within her throat. "Where's Fred?"

"Had a feeling you'd want to know..." he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he stepped toward her.

"Oh, sod off."

"He's still asleep. Came to bed real late last night." George's face contorted into a smirk as he quirked a brow at her. "Any idea why?"

She shook off some of her embarrassment with a scoff and glanced around to make sure they weren't drawing attention from the other Ravenclaws. "What are you trying to insinuate, George?"

"All I know is he came back late and exhausted," he said and chuckled. "Suffice it to say you had fun?"

Emily didn't let herself crack. She looked back at him, stone-faced as she leaned her elbow casually on the table top. "You're one to talk, eh? You and Angelina were practically arse over elbow, dancing 'til past midnight."

George tried, and failed, to hold back a grin as he took his place in the space next to her. "Yeah, we were, weren't we?" He revelled in the memory of it before realization dawned upon his face. "But stop trying to change the subject! We were talking about you and Fred."

Emily rolled her eyes and looked away from him. "What about it?"

"So, what do I call you now, my sister-in-law?"

She turned to him so quickly she felt her neck crack against the motion. "Let's not get hasty, now," she argued. "Nothing's changed."

"Nothing's changed? Are you demented?" George let out a snort of haughty laughter. "You went from hardly speaking to snogging within a four hour stretch!"

"Nothing's changed."

"All right, all right," He threw up in his hands in mock surrender then smiled. "I'm just glad you finally got it over with. It was getting pretty unbearable with you two."

Emily brushed him off with a flippant wave of her hand. The thought of Fred — of her and Fred — was conflicting, to say the least. Being with him was so easy, so comfortable, at least while they were on. It took no thought or effort. They could just kiss and talk as hours passed. But they were barely back to where they started. They hadn't even been talking to each other just twelve hours earlier.

Who knew where they stood now? Emily sure as hell didn't...

And it was driving her mad not to know.

She jumped up suddenly from the table, the uncertainty lighting a fire beneath her. "I've got to go."

"What'd I do?"

"It's not you." She handed the muffin to George, and he held it out in front of him, like it was some foreign object, his face curling up in confusion. "If you see Violet, give this to her for me, yeah?"

He nodded, and as she started to head off, he said, "And you tell Fred we're all glad it finally happened."

With a groan, she ran up the spiralled staircase to Gryffindor Tower.

It was a longer trek than she remembered, with every step filling her with a combination of dread and excitement. Her slow steps became a brisk walk became a run as she sprinted up to find him. She arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady a bit out of breath and in the end-stages of panic.

Before the painting could even speak, Emily blurted out the password: "Jiggery-pokery."

The Fat Lady crossed her arms, wrinkling her horrid mauve gown at the elbows. "No, no, this won't do. Only Gryffindors past this point."

"I gave you your password," Emily said and tried to get her fingers behind the portrait door to pull it open. It wouldn't budge. "Let me in, you old bat."

The door swung open, and Emily was just getting ready to begrudgingly thank the Fat Lady when she nearly ran into a tall red-haired boy.

"Oi!"

Fred's hair was mussed sideways, sticking up haphazardly. He wore an oversized burgundy jumper that draped loosely from his shoulders. She could imagine the tone of his muscles, the smoothness of his fair skin from beneath it, though she quickly shook the thought from her mind.

At first, he didn't say anything else but just looked at her, his eyes dancing across her face. Her whole body stiffened up under his gaze.

He smirked. "You looking for me?"

"No," she said. Her tone was harsh, defensive. "Not everything's about you, you know."

"Then what were you doing here, in Gryffindor tower?"

It wasn't common for students of other houses to camp outside another common room. It wasn't common for them to desperately claw at the door, mumbling the password like a maniac, trying to get in.

This did not look good for her.

"I, um, was... trying to catch one of your Prefects." Her jumper slipped down her shoulder as she caught her breath.

"What for?"

"Prefect business," she shot back quickly. As much as she hoped he would buy it, she knew better.

"Sounds like a load of codswallop to me." He leaned casually against the wall next to the common room door.

A smile cracked the stone façade of her face as she admitted, "Fine, you caught me; I just wanted to talk."

"I knew it," he said and adjusted himself so he stood just over her.

Then she added, without looking at him, "About last night."

"Shit."

The Fat Lady let out a frustrated a-hem, and Emily started down the stairs in search of someplace better to talk. Fred trailed closely behind. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs — as good a place as any.

"We don't really need to talk about it, do we?" Fred argued, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his trousers. "We already did that."

"And it went nowhere," she said.

Fred's face contorted with confusion, and he asked, "Well, where do you want it to go?"

"I don't know."

"Then let's figure it out." He set his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him. "The fun way, yeah?"

The way he looked at her sent a tingling sensation down her spine.

"While that would be fun..." she started and placed her hand on Fred's chest. As if taking her at her word, Fred leaned down and kissed her. He started at her cheek and moved to her jaw, then her neck, making his way back to her lips. She turned her head from him and continued, "You know we shouldn't."

He pulled back suddenly. "I'm confused. D'you want to snog or not?"

"This isn't just about snogging, Fred." She let out mix of a sigh and a groan as she fell back against the wall. "You're not taking this seriously."

"Why should it have to be serious?"

Emily ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back in front of her shoulder. She didn't answer him.

Fred leaned in closer to her, his neck craned over hers. She could feel his breath, cool like peppermint against her skin. "Do you want me?"

"Well, yes, but —"

"Then stop overthinking it." His hand found a place on her hip, and he steadied himself against her. "You want to be with me, right? You enjoyed the snogging, yeah?"

Maybe she did, but that wasn't the point. Was it?

"Say we do this…" she conceded. "What happens if it doesn't work out?"

"Then we stop snogging." He chuckled, his eyes watching to gauge her reaction. "It's that easy."

But it wasn't that easy. It couldn't possibly be that easy.

"You're being incredibly nonchalant about this."

Fred shrugged and leaned his arm against the wall with a devil-may-care attitude. "Well, that's just my way, innit? Like your way is to assume the worst and panic about it."

"I'm not being defeatist," she argued, feeling her shoulders rise and fall with each breath. "I'm being pragmatic."

Fred groaned and threw up his hands. "C'mon, Princey, there's a simple answer to all this." Emily caught a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"What?"

He took a step forward until she was backed against the wall and his body was against hers, and he pressed his mouth to hers. She parted her lips to kiss him back, setting a hand against his chest and the other in his hair.

When Fred kissed her, her body felt light and heavy at the same time, like it was weighed down by gravity but somehow still floating in mid-air. When he kissed her, he was impossibly, wonderfully close to her, their bodies practically intertwined, like he couldn't possibly be close enough. He kissed her with a wanting, a passion, a desperation that she subconsciously matched. It made her skin tingle with a fanciful numbness, left an echo on her body for hours afterward, like she could still feel him, still taste him.

After a moment that felt all too short, Fred pulled back, wiping her gloss off his lips. "And there's more where that came from, if you want."

Fred's hand lingered on the small of her back, like it was subconscious. Emily reached back and set her fingers gingerly against his skin. He flinched and tried to move, but her hand kept his there. There was a part of her, she didn't want to admit, that was comforted by the closeness.

"So... we good now?" he asked, leaning his head forward just enough that he could see her face clearly. "All this talking's got me starved, and there's bangers and mash calling my name."

Emily fought against the redness creeping into her cheeks and the doubt that kept stabbing her in the back.

She thought about the good that could come of it, the comfort, the kissing, the almost effortless intimacy they already had. They could be good together, maybe. Maybe. Then she thought about Violet's warning, the word 'messy.' She thought about George getting stuck in the middle in every bickering argument they'd have. She thought about what would happen if things changed — passing him silently in the corridor, the empty space next to her at breakfast each morning, the awkward tension that would linger between them until they left Hogwarts. She remembered how badly she missed him before and how much more she would miss him now if anything were to happen…

She dropped his hand suddenly, as if the contact started to burn. "I can't."

"What's that?"

She didn't move, she couldn't. Her feet had grown roots into the stone floor that held her firmly in place.

"This is just… a lot," she finally said. The words spewed from her mouth at rapid pace. "It's too much and too fast, and I don't know if I can do it."

She swore she saw Fred's face fall, but he followed it up with a thin smile. "Well, if that's what you decided, then that's that."

Her heart sank in her chest, and she tried to rationalise it away. "I just think it's better — safer — if we don't — at least for now."

"Try to keep it as mates, then?" he suggested. He looked at her only in brief, passing glances, back and forth from her face to the floor.

"Try," she repeated, more to herself than to him. Like a mantra: try, try, try.

The corners of his lips turned up, and he raised a brow. "Mates who snog, yeah?"

"Fred."

"All right, all right, sorry." He let out a chuckle and held out his hand to her. "Just mates for now."

She shook it, but the motion felt cold, empty. "Okay."

But the words echoed in her head: for now.

They walked back into the Great Hall together, and Emily wondered if she shouldn't have just waited instead. George had moved to the Gryffindor table since she went to get Fred, and sat with Angelina and Lee. When he saw Emily and Fred approaching, George waved them over and scooted some room at the table.

"So… you two now, yeah?" George started, looking between the two of them. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and smirked. "How was it, then, Freddy?"

Emily turned a shade of deep red from cheek to chin and tried to curtain her hair in front of her face. George seemed to be taking special joy in her embarrassment.

"I called it," he continued and nudged the both of them. "I called it two years ago or something that you two would get together eventually."

"We're not together," Emily defended. The words left her mouth before she even realized, and they slapped Fred hard across the face. He was quiet, and George awkwardly dropped his arms, averting his eyes as he took a seat on the other side of her.

An uncomfortable silence hung over them like a storm cloud about to let loose until George finally spoke up.

"Okay... We'll just do breakfast for now, yeah?" George looked paler than Emily ever remembered seeing him. He answered his own question, "Yeah, sounds good."

"I'm just… I'm gonna go." She took the muffin from where it sat on the table in front of George. "I'll see you later."

And as she walked away, she heard George hiss to his brother, "What the bloody hell happened?"

Later that day, Emily found herself in the Library after lunch was long over. She didn't have much motivation to do anything after the fallout that morning, but she knew she needed to do something. And if she couldn't spend time with Fred and George and if Violet was still busy with her Muggle Studies independent project and if Patty and Amina would only continue their incessant questions, that left schoolwork as the only obvious answer. At any rate, winter holiday was never long enough for all the things she needed to do — from assigned readings to essays to studying for the inevitable pop-quiz upon their return to class.

Defence, she figured, was as good a place as any to start.

She pulled out the assigned reading and a piece of parchment for notes and dug in, trying to focus as best she could.

Fred fell into the space on her left side, facing backwards with his legs outstretched in front of him. He leaned his elbows casually against the table and looked at Emily, a semi-flirtatious half-smile spreading across his cheeks.

"What'cha up to?" he finally said, his voice almost a coo, and Emily could feel her fingertips tingling and the echo of his lips against her own.

She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. "Reading."

"What'cha reading?"

"A book," she answered, indifferently, and turned the page. She couldn't remember where she left off once he sat down, so she pretended.

"Ha ha. What's it, then, some muggle chick book for middle aged women?" he asked, the question marked by chortling.

"Actually it's the subsidiary text that Moody assigned, which you might know if you paid literally any attention at all in class."

He pulled the book from her hands and slammed it shut. Emily noticed he was careful to quickly dog-ear her page before he did. "No homework on holiday."

"Yeah? So what's the plan, then?" Her hands clicked into place at her hips. "Surely if you've confiscated my homework, you must have a plan for what we'll do instead."

"It's snowing, you homebody."

"Thanks for the weather update," she joked in a mocking news-anchor voice. "Now for sports?"

"As a matter of fact..." He pulled her up from her seat, and her hand felt warm in his.

He ran with her out to the courtyard where the snow was coming down in thin, pleasant flurries, just as it had the night before. The ground was covered in a layer of nearly-untouched snow that glistened white against the afternoon sun.

"Come get me," he called out as used his wand to bewitch a meticulously-crafted snowball to launch itself at her. It landed in her hair, dripping ice cold water down the back of her blouse, and she shrieked in response.

She wasn't dressed for this, but she'd be damned if she let him win, and she balled up a huge ball of snow and lobbed it at him. It hit him so hard in the chest that he stumbled backward.

"Is that all you've got, Weasley?" she taunted and bent down to get another snowball ready to launch. But he was quicker than she was, sending another four snowballs her way with just a flick of his wand. So she'd have to play his way.

It was surprisingly easy, and she watched the snow dance itself into perfect spheres before she flung them back at him. He was just as fast, and their ammunition collided in mid-air.

Their game attracted the attention of the other students, and it spiralled into an all-out brawl. Before long there were dozens of people joining in and snowballs flying everywhere.

Emily was hit a couple more times, though she dodged a fair few more than she would've thought herself able, and shook the powdery snow from her clothes. She could barely see through the barrage of snow that surrounded her until someone grabbed her around the waist and she fell flat against a large, soft snowbank with a thud.

"Whoa!"

As the snow settled around them, Emily saw who had fallen with her, and his brown eyes crinkled with a smile, the cold turning his freckled cheeks pink.

"Fancy meeting you here," Fred joked, and Emily realized she was still lying in his arms.

"What was that for?" she asked as she rolled herself over on top of him. "I ought to take advantage of you here while I've the chance."

"Oh, please do," he replied. Emily felt her face go red and warm. Her chest rose and fell with deep inhale and exhale, and clouds of their breath met between them, colliding and dissipating in sync.

It was hard to deny how tempted she was to grab him by the collar of his jacket, pull him close to her, and kiss him.

Mates, she reminded herself. Just mates for now.

It was stupid and frustrating, and she more than a little bit regretted the decision the moment the words came from her mouth.

Fred almost seemed like he was waiting for her to do something, and when she didn't, he sat up from beneath her. "You want some cocoa?"

She didn't realize quite how much she was shaking — mostly from the cold, though being so close didn't help. Her hair was drenched with wet snow, and she was practically soaked through to the skin.

Emily nodded, distracted by the motion. She stood up and offered a hand to help him up as well. And together, they ventured off to the kitchens.

The kitchens were always busy — always. Whether it was two in the morning or five in the afternoon, the house-elves were constantly running about, baking and cooking and cleaning dishes. When anyone snuck down to the kitchens, they were constantly running the risk of getting caught by the house-elves who, with few exceptions, were notorious tattlers.

But as always, Fred had his tricks. A secret passageway here, an abandoned hall there, and before she knew it they were in.

"We'll have to be quick," she said, glancing around for any stragglers who might see them.

She heated up the milk while he gathered the other ingredients, and snuck a few biscuits from a pantry as well. He dropped crumbled chunks of chocolate into the milky mix and added a pinch of cinnamon, what he called his 'secret ingredient'.

"Not much of a secret, Fred," she whispered.

"If it's not in the recipe, it counts as a secret."

"Any idea where we're going with this?" she asked as he poured the cocoa into two mugs. The sweet aroma wafted around them. "We can't rightly stay here."

He smiled at her. "I've got it all under control."

Emily whipped out her wand to clean the small stovetop pot with Scourgify to clear their tracks before following Fred out the door.

He led them all the way through the secret passageways of the castle up to the Astronomy Tower. When no classes were in session, this part of the castle was utterly empty. The tower itself was often kept locked if not in use, but that was understood as more of a suggestion than a rule. After all, it was easily opened with a simple Alohamora. If it was truly off-limits, they would've made it harder.

Before they sat down, Emily hit them with the Hot-Air charm to dry their clothes a bit since the breeze running through the tower was enough to chill on its own. They found seats on the small set of steps at the south end of the tower, and Fred handed Emily her mug.

"This was a good idea," Emily said, satisfied, in between gulps of cocoa.

Fred took a deep inhale of the chocolate-scented steam. "It always is."

They let the quiet settle in, but it wasn't awkward the way silence usually was. With Fred, the silence was comfortable and understanding and filled with all of the things they wanted to say but couldn't.

"That's a nice necklace," Fred said finally. He pointed to the locket that peeked out from beneath her blouse.

"Thanks." She turned its pendant over in her fingers. "Was this you?"

"No way. Think it was Percy. Dropped it off before heading back to the Ministry and was too shy to give it to you himself." She searched his face for a sign that he was taking the mickey, but he looked as serious as ever.

Emily felt her jaw go slack as the colour drained from her face, leaving an ashen pallor in its wake.

"I'm only joking," he admitted finally with a chuckle. "It was me."

"You bloody near gave me a heart attack, Fred Weasley!" She nudged him hard on the arm and went to do it again, but he caught her in his arms, and she struggled playfully in his grip.

They fell into a fit of laughter between the two of them, and Fred finally let her go as they caught their breath.

"This is pretty unlike you though," Emily said, examining the locket again. "Maybe it was Percy, after all — a man of refined taste."

"Oi, I resent that. I only held on to the bloody thing for two whole years."

"Sorry, what?" She blinked at him in disbelief. "Two years?"

"Kept trying to decide the right time to give it to you so you could know how I felt without me having to say it out loud."

"And Christmas when you thought I was still with Roger was the right time?"

"I didn't want to wait anymore. Figured maybe it could break the ice enough that we wouldn't keep fighting anymore. Then I was a prat and mucked it all up anyhow."

"So we were both stupid."

"Yeah..." His eyes danced from her face to the locket and back. "D'you like it? I mean, you're wearing it, so..."

"I love it. It's beautiful." She let the pendant fall back against her chest, and it sparkled on the way down as it caught light. "But, if you don't mind my asking, why the fleur-de-lis?"

"Is that what it's called? A fleur?" He seemed thrown by the word and made a face as he repeated it aloud. "Well, it's French, yeah? And you're French, sorta. And it's like a royalty thing, and you're Princey, so it fits. Plus, it's pretty, like..."

He sounded so genuine as he looked at her, explaining the rationale behind the decision. It was the most thoughtful she'd ever known him to be.

"Thank you," she said and leaned over to kiss him.

She didn't mean to, but she did; she couldn't help herself. And she was sure he didn't mean to kiss her back, but he did too.

Before long, they were wrapped in each other's arms, and she felt his fingertips warm from the cocoa against the skin of her back. She reached around his neck, eager, desperate for him. He was desperate for her too as he pulled her closer to him.

He tasted like chocolate and cinnamon, his lips soft and smooth. She breathed him in as went back for more.

It wasn't enough for either of them, and Emily climbed on top of his lap, her hand trailing the muscles in his chest. He flexed around her, each move they made in perfect sync.

Fred gently, hesitantly, pulled back.

"At the risk of sounding like you," he started, and his eyes focused on hers, "I think we ought to talk about this."

"That's surprisingly mature of you," she said and snuck in another kiss before sliding onto the step below him.

"It's selfish, really. I'm confused as all get-out with the mixed signals and whatnot."

"I'm sorry." Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. "I didn't mean to —"

He smirked, twirling his hand through her hair. "I'm not complaining…"

"But you're right," she said.

Fred wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin atop her thick curls. His embrace was warm, and she seemed to fit right into the empty space beside him, like they were two interconnecting puzzle pieces. For a moment, they just sat there like that, their breaths in matching cadence.

"So," Fred said finally, "what do you think?"

Emily shook her head. "That I don't want to think anymore."

"See? You're as bad as I am." There was a smile in his eyes as his fingers intertwined with hers.

Maybe this was what reckless abandon felt like…

"Just shut up and kiss me, yeah?" she said.

And he replied, "Gladly."

Bad news: I'm a horrible, inconsistent person. (My bad...)

Good news: if you were looking to reread the previous 17 chapters, now would be a good time. Yes, that means there was a complete rewrite during my hiatus. I'm sorry and you're welcome.

If you've stuck with me for this long, know that you are so very appreciated.