Chapter 5 - That's Unexpected
Ava sat at her usual table in the library, the early evening sun casting long streaks of gold across the worn oak. Her Astronomy notes lay open in front of her, but she wasn't reading them. Instead, her fingers ran absently over the parchment of a letter she'd already read twice and hated more each time.
Dear Ava,
I'm glad to hear that things are going well for you this year.
I'm pleased that you've taken a liking to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
I hope you are impressing your teacher, as you do all your professors.
You never mentioned his name, but I trust he sees what an exceptional witch you're becoming.
Work at the Ministry has been hectic. With Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban,
I've been completely tied up. Which brings me to my next point.
I regret to inform you that I will not be signing your permission slip for Hogsmeade this year.
Given the heightened security, I do not want my daughter exposed to any unnecessary risk.
Hogwarts is the safest place for you, and there, you will stay.
Also, for winter break, I ask that you remain at school.
I will be traveling overseas for business and it's best that you stay behind.
Continue working hard. Someday, you may have a place in the Ministry too.
Enjoy the rest of the term. If you need anything, you may write.
–A. Johnson
Ava's grip on the parchment tightened until her knuckles went white. She folded the letter once. Then again. Then she crumpled it and pressed it hard between her hands, as though she could crush the disappointment out of it.
He always said no. Always found a reason to keep her back.
Not this year. Not again.
Her chest tightened, and with it came the familiar sting of memory. The sharp, echoing words from years ago, words that had never fully stopped ringing.
"I hate you!"
She'd screamed it at him as she slammed her bedroom door. She'd only been ten. But it was the first time she'd said what she truly felt.
Her father's fists pounded the door behind her.
"Open this door, Ava. Don't make me come in there!"
She'd sat on her bed, clutching a pillow, trying to muffle her sobs.
"Go away! I don't want to see you again!"
The door flew open with a bang, and he stormed in, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up until they were nose to nose.
"When I tell you to do something, you bloody well do it. I am your father!"
Her voice shook as she spat the words. "You're not my papa! You killed her! You killed my mum!"
The slap came before she could even breathe.
It wasn't the pain that stayed with her. It was what he said next.
"I should've saved Vanessa instead of you."
He'd left her there, curled on the floor, cheek throbbing and heart in pieces.
Ava blinked rapidly, dragging herself out of the memory. Her chest ached. She inhaled sharply, then picked up the crumpled letter and threw it toward the nearest bin–
–just as Fred Weasley rounded the corner. The paper hit him squarely in the forehead.
"Ow," he muttered, rubbing the spot with a wince.
George appeared right behind him, already laughing. "Blimey, nice aim. Right between the eyes."
Ava pressed a hand to her mouth. "Sorry! That was meant for the bin, not your face."
"Well," Fred said, grinning through the sting, "you could've fooled me. I've never been assaulted so eloquently."
"You do have a big target," she shot back, smirking. "Difficult to miss."
He flopped into the chair beside her and clutched his heart. "You wound me, Johnson. And here I was, thinkin' we were friends."
"You'll survive. Barely." She reached over and flicked his shoulder.
George plopped down across from them. "So what had you throwing things like a mad woman, love? That a love letter gone wrong?"
Ava scoffed. "Not even close. My father sent me a letter denying my Hogsmeade permission slip… again. And, surprise, I'm spending Christmas here too."
Fred and George exchanged a look that shared a glint of trouble Ava had come to recognize all too well.
"Oh no," she said, eyeing them both. "You're doing that face. What are you plotting?"
Fred leaned in. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Forge?"
George nodded, eyes wide and innocent. "I think I am, Gred."
They grinned in unison. "It's time we solemnly swear we're up to no good."
Ava groaned. "Absolutely not. The last time you two said that, I lost my eyebrows in a potion accident."
Fred nudged her shoulder. "That was educational."
"It was traumatic."
"Fine line," George said brightly. "But tonight? No explosions. No lost eyebrows."
"Just solutions," Fred added. "Meet us by the lake. Midnight. Dress warm."
"And sexy," George threw in, winking.
Ava was about to fire back when footsteps thundered through the corridor, and Oliver Wood skidded into view, slightly breathless.
"Sorry I'm late!" he said. "Got caught up wi' some pitch stuff. But I'm here now."
His eyes flicked to Fred and George, then back to Ava. "I see ye were keepin' her company."
Fred stood, voice flat. "Just passin' through. All yours, Wood."
He brushed past Oliver with George on his heels. Ava thought she heard Fred mutter something under his breath as they walked out, but she couldn't catch the words.
Oliver turned to her with a crooked grin and sat beside her, sliding her books toward him. "Hope I didn't keep ye waitin' long."
"It's alright," Ava said, shifting slightly. "I was just… catching up on reading."
Oliver took her hand gently, his touch warm against her cooler skin. "Then let me make it up to ye. Come out with me this weekend. Halloween night. It's the least I can do."
She blinked. "You don't have to do that–"
"I want to," he said, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. Then, in a lower voice, "And maybe… I like ye."
Ava's heart skipped a beat. "You like me?"
"Aye," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it, slow, deliberate. "So what do ye say? Go out with me?"
Her mouth was dry. She couldn't think. Could barely breathe. "Yeah," she said, trying not to sound as stunned as she felt. "It's a date."
He grinned. "Brilliant."
With that, he stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Best get to bed. Got practice in the mornin'. I'll see ye Saturday, Ava."
He bent and kissed her cheek, soft, warm, fleeting, and then disappeared out the library doors.
Ava sat frozen for a second.
Then slowly, slowly, she smiled.
She was going on a date with Oliver Wood!
Her fingers brushed the spot on her cheek where he'd kissed her, still warm.
"Blimey."
The voice came from behind her and Ava turned and felt her stomach drop slightly.
Fred stood just inside the nearest aisle, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other gripping the corner of the shelf like he wasn't sure if he wanted to step forward or disappear.
"Oh," she said, startled. "I thought you left."
"Clearly not fast enough," he muttered.
She blinked. "Were you… standing there the whole time?"
Fred shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Came back to grab a book George forgot. Walked in on your… moment."
Ava felt heat creeping up her neck. "It wasn't a moment."
He looked at her then, something unreadable in his expression. "Right. Just Astronomy notes and kisses on the cheek. Dead academic."
There was something in his tone. Dry, but not joking. Not like usual.
Ava tilted her head, uncertain. "Fred… are you okay?"
He offered her a smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Course. Why wouldn't I be? You're goin' on a date with Wood. He's charming. Broad shoulders. Terrible handwriting. All the right boxes ticked."
"You're being weird."
That made him stop, a crooked smile flickering across his lips. Sharper this time.
"You've not known me long enough to decide what's weird," he said quietly.
Ava's breath caught slightly. The words weren't mean, exactly. But they landed heavier than she expected.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said after a beat, more careful now.
Fred tilted his head, watching her for a second longer than was comfortable. Then the moment passed. He stepped back, slipping into his usual grin like it was armor.
"Midnight by the lake," he said, voice light again. "We've got secrets to uncover and crimes to commit."
"Fred–"
He threw her a wink over his shoulder. "Wear something dangerous."
And just like that, he was gone.
Ava sat back in her chair, her heart still fluttering, but not in the way it had when Oliver kissed her hand.
Something had shifted. And it was getting harder to pretend she didn't feel it.
Fred stepped out of the library with his hands in his pockets and the beginnings of a scowl tugging at his face. He wasn't sure what was more annoying. Oliver bloody Wood kissing Ava's hand like he was auditioning for a romance novel or the fact that it worked.
George was leaning against the corridor wall, arms crossed and one eyebrow already raised.
"Let me guess," he said. "Wood's got a date, you've got heartburn, and Ava's still oblivious?"
Fred didn't answer right away. He kept walking.
George fell into step beside him. "You alright, mate?"
"Peachy," Fred said flatly. "Absolutely chuffed to bits."
"You know," George said casually, "you've got two options here. You can keep being cryptic and jealous and broody about it… or you could actually do something."
Fred shot him a look. "Like what? March in there and declare my undying love in the middle of her study session?"
George shrugged. "Would be memorable."
"She'd laugh in my face."
"No she wouldn't."
Fred rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tight. "She doesn't see me like that. Never has. I'm the funny one. The background noise. The cousin's friend."
George was quiet for a beat. "You're more than that, and you know it."
Fred didn't reply. He hated how much he wanted to believe it.
They reached the bottom of the stairs leading back toward the common room. George stopped, waiting until Fred turned back to him.
"Seriously," George said, voice softer now. "You've liked her for ages. I've watched you make up reasons to sit near her in the common room. Or show off whenever you saw her in the stands during a match. Hell, you nearly punched Cormac McLaggen last year just for staring at her too long."
Fred scoffed. "McLaggen deserved that on principle."
George grinned. "True. But still."
Fred leaned back against the wall, sighing through his nose. "She's going on a date with Wood, George. Golden boy. Captain Fantastic."
George raised a brow. "Then make sure he plays fair."
Fred looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah. Brilliant. I'll just referee her love life while I pretend not to care."
"Or…" George said with a smirk, turning to head upstairs, "You could stop pretending."
Fred didn't move. Just stood there for a while in the empty corridor, trying to figure out how one girl could make him feel this ridiculous.
Midnight couldn't come soon enough.
The corridor was quiet as Ava made her way back from the library, still clutching her books to her chest and replaying the last fifteen minutes over and over in her head. Oliver Wood had asked her out. Like, really asked her out. She was pretty sure she'd blacked out somewhere between the hand kiss and the cheek graze.
She rounded the corner near the Fat Lady and nearly ran straight into Angelina. "Oh!" Ava jolted back. "Merlin, you scared me."
"There you are," Angelina said, eyes narrowing. "Took you long enough."
Ava blinked. "Were you waiting for me?"
"I intercepted you," she replied as if she were on an Auror assignment. "Katie heard from Alicia, who heard from Penelope Clearwater, who overheard some sixth-year girl say that they say that Oliver Wood kissed your hand in the library."
Ava blinked again, dumbfounded. "That… escalated quickly."
"Is it true?" Angelina pressed, stepping closer. "Did he?"
Ava fought the smile tugging at her mouth and tried for a shrug. "Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"He asked me out."
Angelina's jaw dropped so fast, it was a miracle it didn't hit the floor.
"No. Way."
Ava nodded, unable to stop the grin.
"I knew he fancied you!" Angelina said, throwing an arm around her and practically bouncing. "Well…okay, I thought maybe he fancied you, but then I thought he was just being Wood-ish. But this? Oh, this is so much better than I imagined."
"It's not that big of a deal," Ava said, cheeks burning.
"Not that big of a…Ava, please. You do realize half the girls in Gryffindor are going to be in mourning when this gets around?"
Ava groaned. "Please don't make it a thing."
"Oh, it's already a thing," Angelina said, positively gleaming. "Oh by the way, did your dad respond about Hogsmead?"
At that, Ava's smile faltered.
"I'm not going," she said, tugging at the strap of her bag.
Angelina stopped mid-stride. "Wait, what?"
"He didn't sign my permission slip. Again." Ava said with a shrug like it didn't sting. "Apparently, Sirius Black is dangerous and I can't be trusted to walk down a street without supervision."
Angelina's face dropped. "Ava…"
"It's fine," she cut in quickly, forcing a smile. "Really. I kind of expected it. I'll just hang around here. Maybe reorganize the Divination section in the library for fun."
"You know, for someone who says it's fine, you're making me want to hex your father's quill hand."
Ava laughed. "You'll need to get in line."
They started walking again, the corridor growing quieter as they approached the portrait.
Angelina glanced sideways at her, something unreadable in her expression. Then, casually she asked, "So… what about Fred?"
Ava frowned, glancing at her in confusion. "What about him?"
Angelina hesitated. "Nothing. Just… you've been hanging out with him more, haven't you?"
"I guess." Ava frowned slightly. "We've had a couple of weird run-ins this week, but it's not like we're besties… why are you asking?"
Angelina waved a hand, suddenly too breezy. "No reason. Just curious."
Ava narrowed her eyes. "You're being weird."
"I'm always weird."
"No, Fred's weird. You're just… suspicious."
Angelina grinned, unbothered. "I'm not being suspicious. It was just a question."
Before Ava could press further, Angelina turned and approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was mid-yawn and swaying gently in her frame, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a Celestina Warbeck lullaby.
"Peppermint toffee," Angelina said, and the portrait swung forward with a creak, revealing the warm, flickering glow of the Gryffindor common room.
They stepped inside and were immediately greeted by the familiar scent of old wood, parchment, and the faint trace of cinnamon from someone's forgotten teacup. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting golden light over the squashy armchairs and tapestries that swayed gently in the drafty air.
No sooner had they entered than a few Gryffindor girls near the fireplace perked up, whispering and glancing their way. One of them nudged another, and Ava caught the unmistakable flick of a glance in her direction, then at Angelina. Word had already traveled.
"Angie!" someone called from across the room. "Come tell us if it's true!"
Angelina shot Ava an amused look before being swept toward the group, already grinning as she launched into what was sure to be a highly dramatized retelling.
Ava watched her go, warmth blooming in her chest. Not just from the fire, but from the sight of someone so at ease, so effortlessly herself. It was a skill Ava had always admired in her cousin. Even when she was being nosy.
With a quiet exhale, Ava turned toward the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory. Her bag felt heavier on her shoulder now, her thoughts even more so.
She climbed slowly, her hand trailing along the railing.
But even as the common room chatter faded behind her and she reached the top of the staircase, one question echoed louder than the rest.
What about Fred?
She wasn't sure why the question wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe it was the way Angelina had said it. Casual, but not. The kind of question you dropped when you already knew the answer and were just waiting for someone else to catch up.
By the time she reached the landing to the girls' dormitory, her cheeks were warm, and not from the firelight below. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel.
She hadn't meant for anyone to see what happened in the library. Not Fred, and definitely not a full-on Hogwarts game of Telephone that ended with half the common room looking at her like she'd just eloped with Oliver Wood over a stack of star charts.
Ava pressed her lips together and glanced back down the stairs.
Fred wasn't there. Neither was George. She hadn't seen them since they'd left the library. Fred with that unreadable expression and George trailing after him like he already knew what was going unsaid. For a second, she wondered if she should've said something. Called out after him. Asked what that look meant.
But instead, she'd just sat there, letting Oliver kiss her hand and whisper things that made her blush and made her doubt, all at once.
Ava pushed open the door to the dorm and stepped inside. The room was empty. Lindsay and Leia must've still been downstairs. For once, she was grateful.
She dropped her bag by her bed and sank onto the edge of the mattress, letting her head fall into her hands.
What if she'd imagined it all? Fred's shift in tone, the way he looked at her in that moment before he slipped out the door? Maybe she'd just projected her own confusion onto him. Maybe he'd just been annoyed that she and Oliver were using the library like a courting lounge. That would be fair.
Still…
He hadn't looked annoyed. He'd looked… hurt.
Ava kicked off her shoes and stood, restless, her feet carrying her to the window before she'd even decided to move. Outside, the night had deepened into a velvet hush, the moon high above the lake and wrapped in a soft curtain of silver mist. Her reflection hovered faintly in the glass. Thoughtful, uncertain, caught between too many questions and not enough answers.
She turned away and glanced at the clock. Midnight was still a while off, but not far. Her stomach gave a quiet twist of nerves.
Fred and George had told her to meet them by the lake. She'd laughed at the time, rolled her eyes at Fred's usual theatrics, but now…
Now she was already trying to come up with excuses not to go.
And yet, beneath that, stubborn and persistent was a flicker of curiosity she couldn't quite shake. About what they were planning.
And about Fred.
As the minutes ticked by, Ava couldn't stop wondering if maybe, just maybe, she'd been wrong about him all along.
