Chapter 3: Sparks
Clara had never been so happy to be so exhausted in all her life. As she lay in the pleasurable afterglow after having engaged in a variety of shenanigans that she never, in a million years, would ever consider asking for a refund for, (had such a thing even been possible), she was glad that she'd decided to ignore the little voice in the back of her head that had been telling her that this would be a bad idea.
That voice had no idea what it was talking about.
"God, how did you learn how to do all of that? And your endurance…I'm not even sure the guys back in the States could even hope to compete. You've utterly ruined me now," she said, tracing a circle on Fred's bare shoulder as he brought the fingers on her other hand to his lips, kissing them tenderly in a way that made her feel terribly bashful.
"I guess I'll just have to marry you, then," he said with a chuckle.
Clara went scarlet and she laughed nervously in reply, hoping that he didn't notice how his easy words had affected her.
"In any case, exactly how did you...I mean...five times is….unusual for me, to say the least," she said, changing the subject.
"What if I told you it was magic?" he said, grinning mysteriously.
"I don't care if it's the sign of the coming apocalypse," Clara replied with a sleepy grin, "Because if I had to choose a way to die, having the pleasure of your company sure would soften the blow."
"Oh, Clara," Fred said softly in a way that made her heart lurch, brushing a bit of her frizzy hair back from her face.
Clara thought that the way that he said her name must have been the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.
"Don't talk like that," he continued, "There'll be no dying allowed on my watch. After all, I couldn't do this again. And again. And again."
He kissed her firmly, trailing his lips down her neck until he reached the pink imprint left by her bra strap that was still visible on her shoulder.
Her heart throbbed as she looked at him and she felt utterly stupid for feeling like this after only having known this smiling freckled man for less than even a full day. But there was no denying it. After so long with little more than a couple of lackluster one night stands and casual dates to keep her from simply exploding from sexual frustration, spending time with someone who not only seemed to like her but also found her physically appealing (and vice versa, which was even more rare) was utterly intoxifying. She tried to stop herself when she noticed that her train of thought was snowballing out of control. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, that laugh that came easy to him along with his wickedly sexy smile, or perhaps it had to do with the soft baritone of his voice and what to her was a distinctive accent. Whatever it was, it was really doing something to her.
Fuck.
It had been less than a day and she was already in love with the poor guy.
She knew that the real poor one was herself, though. Everyone knew that men didn't fall in love after one night stands. And besides, she would be leaving in five days.
"Oh god," she groaned softly as he met her eyes and gave her a concerned look, "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot."
"What's wrong?" he asked, kissing the back of her hand until she shivered at his touch.
She shook her head, though, unwilling to voice her thoughts, and he simply rested his chin on her thigh and looked at her with a thoughtful expression as though appreciating the shape of her body.
'Well, that makes one of us,' she thought bitterly to herself.
A moment later, he turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She watched him pull on a pair of scarlet boxer shorts and amble towards the small bathroom.
"I'll be right back, luv," he said, and she couldn't help but watch the easy, relaxed manner that he walked and the stardust pattern of freckles that ran down his back with a sense of deepest longing.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect you to stay...now that you're done with me," she said softly enough so that he wouldn't hear her, looking at the wall.
He had quite an amazing backside, she had to admit and she tried to steel herself against the certain disappointment that was to come. It would be sad to see him go, but Clara knew that she didn't have the best of luck on a good day, and it had already been quite horrible until she'd stepped foot into the pub, so she really shouldn't expect her short reprieve to continue.
"Maybe I'm dreaming," Clara muttered to herself as Fred disappeared from sight, but when she pinched herself it hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes.
"Galleon for your thoughts?" Fred asked, and Clara jumped.
She hadn't heard him come back.
"Uh, I don't know what that is, but I'll assume that it's like a penny," Clara said with an attempt at a casual tone, trying to will herself to be strong, not to care that he was probably about to make an excuse so he'd never have to see her again.
"Clara?" Fred said, his eyes serious, and Clara braced herself.
'Here it comes. Just don't cry, Clara, you'll look foolish and crazy and it never makes anything better,' she thought bitterly.
Still, she felt the hot prickling sensation of unshed tears springing up behind her eyes.
"I was wondering," he continued, his cheeks going a bit red as he sat at the foot of the bed, "If...if it would be all right for me to stay."
Clara was silent, looking at him as though trying to decide if he was joking.
"I mean, if you don't want me to, I can go…" he said with a sheepish grin, reaching for his clothing, which had been haphazardly strewn on the floor.
"REALLY?!" Clara practically shouted, making him jump, "I mean, of course you can. It would be cruel to turn you out in the cold."
For a moment, he looked stunned and then his face broke out in a huge grin.
"I was worried once you had your way with me that you'd want to be alone. You know, Americans and their need for space," he said, slipping under the sheets next to her and looking at her sideways.
"Don't worry," Clara replied, "If it's anything I really don't need right now, it's to be alone. I guess I really didn't think about how scary it is to be in a foreign country all by myself."
Fred got a look on his face that told her he was scheming about something.
"Well, I do have to man the shop tomorrow," he said thoughtfully, "But I should be able to sneak away a bit early if I give George the ol' stomach upset story."
"Oh, you don't have to do that on account of me," Clara said, blushing horribly.
"Oh but I don't have to do it. I want to do it!" Fred replied with a wink, "And no one keeps ol' Fred from doing what he wants to do."
She laughed at this despite herself.
"You'd better be careful," she said playfully, "Or maybe I really will take up your offer to marry you."
Fred shrugged.
"My mum and dad basically knew they'd found the right one on their first date," he said, as though such things were commonplace, "It sounds like something that a hopeless romantic might believe, but I always thought that maybe I might be the same."
"That's really sweet," Clara replied, "And they're still happy? Together, I mean?"
"That's the thing," Fred replied, "They really, really are. I think that if you're really meant to be together, you'll just...know. You know?"
"I think I'm starting to," Clara said softly, pressing her hand against his chest and feeling the soothing sound of his heartbeat under her palm.
He pulled her to him gently and she basked in the warmth of his body pressed against hers until she felt boneless with relaxation.
Clara's eyes were drooping dangerously with sleep, and so she was fairly certain that it was just her mind playing tricks on her when Fred seemed to exhale while saying something under his breath and the candles that had lit the room extinguished at once.
Everyone knew that magic wasn't real, after all.
There was a point, where Clara stirred and opened her eyes, though she was sure she was still dreaming. She saw the outline of Fred kneeling by the window, looking intently at something that glowed brightly and moved as though alive.
It was a fox, made of a bluish-white light, its vulpine face almost eerily human in how it grinned in a semblance of Fred's smile.
"Come to the Burrow immediately," the fox said in a voice that was like Fred's, only a bit deeper and slightly rougher, "There's been another attack. Mum wants you to come as soon as possible."
It was strange, for a dream. For one thing, Clara felt cold as she squinted towards the spectacle before her, and it was only when she found herself landing on the freezing floor with a small cry and a much larger thump that she realized that maybe it wasn't a dream. When she looked up again, though, the fox was gone.
Fred turned abruptly to face her with wide, surprised eyes and she saw that he had something in his hand, but it was too dark to see rightly what it was. For a moment, her own eyes went wide as she thought it might be a knife, but he was at her side in a moment, gathering her in his arms as though she weighed nothing (which was quite far from the truth indeed), and placed her back onto the bed with a kiss to her forehead.
"You should sleep, love," he said, softly, "I won't be long."
And with that, he had whispered some words that she didn't understand, but her head suddenly felt quite fuzzy and she felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into dreamless sleep. As she fell from consciousness, though, she thought she heard a loud cracking noise like a whip, but then all was silent and she fell willingly into oblivion.
When she woke up the next morning, the room was empty with no trace that she'd shared her bed at all. The only thing that seemed to point to the fact that it hadn't been a dream were Clara's aching thighs and a toilet whose seat had been left up.
She tried to go about her day, and even asked Tom, the barman, who gave her a funny look when she asked him if Fred was real, but said that he would be happy to let her know if the man returned to his pub. To her surprise, she found that her room had been paid up through the end of the week and her breakfast would be included as part of the price paid. Somehow, this gave her hope that he hadn't just run off, never to see her again.
She remembered that kiss to her forehead, and how he'd told her of his own parents and his thoughts on how, sometimes, you just know. She couldn't believe that he would simply leave her after the best night in her entire life. It was too cruel to imagine.
Little did she know that she would never see Fred again.