A/N: Oh my gosh, last night this story just exploded with appeal. Jennie68, I see you've deactivated private messaging, so in response, I'm glad you like Emma. She's not easy to write, but I think she's turning out worth the struggle. I'm not like her at all, you see. We all really miss Fred, don't we? Thanks so much for alerting, reading, etc. I hope this chapter meets satisfaction of all my readers! Review, please!

"I love you too."

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying, and Fred looked as shocked as she felt. Emma began to shake violently, horrified that he hadn't actually said a thing and she had just imagined it all, but then she saw George push him toward her and he took her hand in his trembling hands and kissed it.

"Game time," said Lee quickly, obviously eager to move passed any awkward emotional moments. Before either of them had a chance to say another word, their friends pulled them into a rousing game of Exploding Snap. The distraction was in name only, as Emma and Fred were willing to do little else but stare longingly at each other.

"At least they're doing it openly now," muttered George, just as the deck exploded.

All night long, Fred and Emma simply watched each other. Just before bed, Katie decided they ought to tire themselves out with dancing, so George turned on the wireless and the other four began to dance wildly. Emma and Fred just watched each other. Angelina kicked Fred forward and he pulled Emma to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and swaying to the music, their eyes still locked longingly.

"You look beautiful," he breathed in her ear. "You always look beautiful."

Emma felt as though she was in some kind of dream. Fred had his strong, fit arms wrapped around her, and he was whispering sweet words into her ear. She had never hoped for such a wonderful reality. Before the music had even stopped, the others had all tired and decided to go to bed, but Fred and Emma were still swaying to the music, whispering words they had always thought, but never had the courage to say out loud.

Finally, George turned off the wireless and Fred and Emma looked at each other, wondering what to do next. Her heart was beating so wildly she thought she would explode. This all happened so quickly. Before she could say a word, slow things down, back away, Fred pressed his lips gently to hers, and the thought of slowing things down seemed absolutely ridiculous.

He led her back to his bed, smiling goofily down at her, crawling into the covers beside her. Gently, he brushed a lock of her hair out of her face and his thumb lingered on her cheek. Thinking he was going to kiss her, Emma's heart began to race, but he did not. His cheek pressed to hers, he whispered, "I love you Emma. I've loved you so long."

He kissed her forehead and wrapped her tightly in his arms. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't tell the difference between her beautiful dreams and her beautiful reality. She wasn't sure what was better, being awake and knowing Fred was holding her, loving her, or being asleep and actually interacting with a Fred who loved her, and not only loved her but was willing to admit it without the influence of a potion.

Emma awoke the following morning far earlier than she would have liked. At first, she was upset because she was incredibly tired and didn't want to be awake, but as her eyes fluttered open, she found herself looking up into the incredibly handsome face of Fred Weasley, who was running his fingers through her hair lightly.

"Good morning," he breathed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She couldn't help but smile as she sat up a little. He looked so incredibly adorable, like he was thinking deeply. Thinking deeply? Fred? Wait a minute, that couldn't possibly be a good thing…

"What time is it?" she muttered, unable able to think of anything better to say.

"It's five," he muttered back. "What happened last night?"

"Uh, well, we slept over," she breathed back. "Um, what exactly are you referring to, Fred?"

"I think I said some things last night that I… I don't know. I wouldn't have said aloud usually."

For a moment, Emma's heart sank, but then she realized he hadn't said he didn't mean them, only that he wouldn't have typically said them aloud. Perhaps she still had a chance. Well, now was no time to shy away. After all, the cat was already out of the bag.

"I love you, Fred," she breathed, barely a whisper, and their eyes locked, his filled with something unreadable. Her heart clenched with fear. She knew he loved her, the potion never lied, but she didn't know if he was willing to act on it, even knowing how she felt. Tears of panic were forming in her eyes, but before a single one fell, Fred did something he hadn't done under the influence of the potion.

Carefully, nervously, cautiously, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to hers, both of them frozen like that, not moving, barely breathing, as if both wondering if this was still a dream of some sort, if they were to pull away, what terrible things might happen, like waking up. She could feel his heart beat as wildly as her own.

Then, as if deciding they were truly awake, they began to move, their fingers caressing every inch of the other's bare skin they could reach, their lips molding together, traveling all the planes they had seen so often for seven years but never had the pleasure of truly knowing, of touching, of experiencing like this. Emma ran her nails down his solid back and thanked every higher power she could think of for Quidditch. He sighed a little as she did so and he feathered his fingers up her legs. She moaned into his mouth, opening her own just enough for his tongue to sneak in, finding its way around the new territory she had afforded it. She wasn't upset at his boldness. She was craving more of him, pleased he wanted her, completely unconcerned with anything but the glorious feel of Fred.

All too soon, the curtains around the bed were pulled open, and the two of them parted swiftly, blinking up at their intruder.

"Well, well," said George, a wide grin on his face. "It's about bloody time, you two."

Fred threw a pillow at his twin, who promptly shut the curtains, and then turned back to Emma, an unreadable look in his bright eyes. His rough hand gently caressed her face and she found herself leaning into his touch.

"How long?" he whispered. "How much time did we waste pretending there was nothing there?"

She didn't answer, simply closed her eyes as he traced a heart along her cheek with his calloused thumb. He was right; they had wasted years, not saying the words they should have said and denying the fact they felt anything at all beyond friendship. The only ones they had fooled were each other and themselves.

"It's a war out there, Emma," he sighed, leaning forward to kiss her neck gently. "The Ministry might not have their stupid eyes open, but whether they've figured it out yet or not, the world is changing."

"Is that why we couldn't see you this summer?" she breathed, trying to focus on their conversation and not the delicious warmth of his tongue on her neck. "Was it something to do with Harry Potter?"

"Mmmhmm," he mumbled, suckling her neck languidly, as though all he had to do that day was taste her flesh and make her melt. Emma bit her lip, holding back the moan that was building up inside of her. "I can't tell you anything now, but I hope someday you'll be in on all the secrets. I'm not losing you now that I finally have you."

Her eyes sprung open and she realized they hadn't made any promises, agreements, or arrangements and here she was, lying in his bed wearing Katie's lingerie and enjoying the feel of his mouth on her skin. If her parents could see her now she'd be grounded for the rest of her life.

"What are we, Fred?" she whispered, moving her hand to his head, intending to push him away from her neck but losing heart as he began nibbling the place just below her jawbone. Instead, she ran her fingers gently through his soft red hair. "Am I yours?"

He kissed where he had been nibbling once and pulled back from her neck, looking into her eyes thoughtfully.

"Do you want to be?"

She said yes before she realized the word was even forming in her mouth. His proud grin could have blinded half the school, it was so brilliant, but then he leaned back down, biting and sucking her neck in a way she knew was going to leave a mark. It was too high to cover with her uniform. He was showing the world that Emma Norwick was his.

"We have class," she sighed. "We can't miss again today. Professor McGonagall would kill us both."

"We have time," he said, pulling away from her neck at last and smirking when she whimpered at the loss of his hot breath on her skin. Fred reached forward and gently brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, shifting his body closer to hers.

Before she had a chance to point out that that time was fast slipping away, Emma found his lips pressed against hers once again. They didn't really have to go to breakfast, she thought. After all, they didn't have classes until after lunch. Suddenly, there were things she would much rather do than go to breakfast. Snogging Fred, for one thing. After all, they didn't have class until after lunch.

When they came up for air a few minutes later, they were both too breathless to speak. They simply smiled stupidly at each other for a few moments, his fingers playing lazily with her lips.

"I've wanted to do that so long," he whispered. "I've been thinking about you for so long…"

Emma shouldn't have asked. These things were better left unasked, so one doesn't think about things one regrets, but somehow, they're often asked, and people like Emma always ask them.

"How long have you been thinking about me?"

He brushed circles thoughtfully into her cheek and contemplated the question for a moment before saying, "Maybe three years."

Three years… she had wanted him longer, but still, such a long, long time. Three years she could have kissed him like that. What a horrible waste of three bloody years. And yet it felt as though they had been like this all of their lives, holding each other, wrapped in each other's arms, hearts beating rapidly together. Not thinking about anything at all except how perfect the world felt, Emma laced her fingers through Fred's silky red locks and pulled his lips hard to hers.

To everyone's surprise, they made it to lunch on time, though admittedly hand in hand. Their friends gave them satisfied grins, Tien, George and Katie put their heads together and began furiously whispering, and Alicia Spinnet burst into tears at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Hey, Emma?" said Katie sweetly as the pair sat down. "Angelina's got that Keeper tryout scheduled for Friday, are you going to come and watch?"

"Um," said Emma, running her fingers through her hair subconsciously, "yeah. I guess I'll go. Do we know who's trying?"

"I've got a list," said Angelina with a sigh, "but Harry can't be there. Umbridge wouldn't let him out of detention. What a bloody idiot, getting detention when I specifically told him–"

"Angelina, give it a rest," said Fred firmly. "You're not happy, we get it, but that hag's got it in for Harry and she was just going to give him detention for something else if not that. I'd rather it was Keeper tryouts and not a game, wouldn't you?"

Angelina continued to grumble under her breath to herself, but the others just ignored her and discussed what they thought McGonagall would cover in class that day. Emma and Fred hardly participated in the conversation, instead holding hands under the table as they ate their lunch and stealing glances and trading grins.

The twins, Tien, Angelina and Emma made their way up too Transfiguration after lunch, Fred with his arm around Emma. They sat down in class, Tien the odd one out, as usual, as George slid into a seat beside Angelina. Emma saw Alicia sit across the room and glare over in their direction with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

"Good afternoon, class," said Professor McGonagall as the bell rang. "As you all know, there will be no room for slacking this year. With your N.E.W.T.s on the horizon, and this being the most dangerous of subjects if treated with carelessness at even the most basic of levels, I do not request but rather demand that each of you takes this class incredibly seriously. Should you fail to do so, you shall be asked to leave and not return."

Emma was getting the strange feeling that she had heard this speech before. It did seem oddly similar to the one Professor McGonagall had given them their first day of class in their first year. It had been so long ago, Emma felt like an entirely different person. She was no longer the nervous, shy Muggle-born who hid in the back of the room praying she wouldn't make a fool of herself. She was top of the year, was friends with some of the most popular seventh years, and answered as many questions as she possibly could. She took pride at the end of each year, thinking of how many of the Ravenclaw points were due to her prowess in the classroom.

"We've got class with the hag after this," Fred hissed in her ear. Emma frowned and pulled her time table out of her bag. He was right. They had Defense Against the Dark Arts next. She slid the parchment back into her bag and stifled a groan. Too much pink for one day.

Somehow, Emma survived Transfiguration's lecture with Fred tickling her leg just below the hem of her uniform skirt and filed out of the room with her hand in his, following Angelina and George to Defense Against the Dark Arts and walking as close to Fred as possible without tripping over each other's feet.

When they finally settled down in their seats in class, Emma took out her book, a quill, some ink, and her wand. Many people around her did the same. It was a bit of a ritual for that class, as they had had a new teacher each year and no one ever knew what to expect.

When the squat little toad came into the room and caught their attention with her heinous little cough, Emma gripped Fred's hand under the desk. Harry already had detentions with this woman. It was the moment of truth.

"Wands away," said that sickeningly sweet voice that startled Emma. She was still expecting a croaking sound to come from that woman's mouth. "You won't be needing them in my classroom."

All twelve N.E.W.T. students exchanged disappointed looks. No good class ever began with those words.

Through the years they had had an incredible variety of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, from those sharing a body with You-Know-Who to professors who were secretly Death Eaters, and even a professor who was not only a horrible author, but a fraud at that. Emma hadn't had to worry about him very much, however, because she had been Petrified just days after Colin Creevey of Gryffindor and spent the rest of the year in the hospital wing. The only good professor they had managed to acquire turned out to be a dark creature once a month, who was a bit of a danger to the students if he forgot to take a potion. Which, as it happens, he did one month. Needless to say, he was gone the next day.

Emma wasn't sure what was going on in class. She was finding it hard to concentrate on the chapter they had been ordered to read. Fred was tracing shapes up her thigh and her stomach was contracting and expanding with his touch. He had a bit of a satisfied smirk on his face as she began to flush, and she knew he knew he was torturing her. Before she realized it was coming, a little moan escaped her lips. She hadn't had time to stop it.

Of course, everyone looked around at her. It had been completely silent and there wasn't a single person in that room who didn't know exactly what sort of noise she had just made. Emma blushed even more furiously and tried to lift the textbook to hide her face, but Professor Umbridge marched right over to her.

"Is there a problem, Miss–?"

"Norwick," Emma whispered. "No, Professor. Something in the chapter just reminded me of something I have to do later. I apologize for the disruption."

Fred could have done a better job of covering his snickering. It didn't sound like a cough at all, and Professor Umbridge raised an eyebrow at him.

"Something funny, Mr. Weasley?"

"Not something I think you would find funny, Professor," he said honestly, giving her a winning smile. She merely frowned.

"Perhaps, if you two can't manage to keep your thoughts on the chapter, I shall have to separate you."

Emma bit her lip and Fred shook his head.

"No, Professor, I don't think that's necessary, but thank you for your consideration."

There was no masking the snickering breaking out around the classroom. Even Emma had a hard time not smiling. Professor Umbridge's frown turned into a sickening smile and she said, very softly, in an incredibly cheerful voice, "Detention, Mr. Weasley, tonight, my office. How does seven o'clock sound?"

"Sounds like a time of the evening, Professor," said Fred, ignoring Emma's kicking him in the shin.

"Seven sharp then, Mr. Weasley. For every minute you're late, you'll receive another detention. I suggest strongly that you be on time."

As Professor Umbridge waddled away, Emma shot Fred an exasperated look and massaged her temples, turning back to the book in front of her and pretending to read it.