Chapter 7 - What is this Feeling?

The sun hung low over the Quidditch pitch, casting long golden shadows across the grass as the Gryffindor team wrapped up their final drill of the evening. The crisp wind tugged at Ava's scarf as she stood near the stands, arms crossed against the chill, watching flashes of scarlet and gold streak through the air like comets.

Oliver had invited her to watch. It was something he'd started doing more often since their so-called tutoring sessions began. Her roommates, naturally, had turned the whole thing into an ordeal. Lindsay had nearly emptied half her wardrobe onto Ava's bed, insisting on the tight black jumper and short skirt over leggings.

"If you've got it," she'd said with a wink, "may as well let him know it's his to lose."

Now, standing under the wide, pale sky, Ava tugged at the hem of her jumper for the third time in five minutes. The breeze needled at the exposed skin behind her knees, and she couldn't decide if she was more self-conscious or freezing.

Still… Oliver kept glancing her way. That easy, lopsided grin. That sharp glint in his eye. At one point, mid-loop near the goalposts, he blew her a kiss.

Ava flushed and dropped her gaze, cheeks burning.

Then came the shout.

"WOOD! LOOK OUT!"

Angelina's voice sliced through the air. Ava's head snapped up just in time to see a rogue bludger barreling toward Oliver. It clipped his arm hard, sending him off-kilter on his broom. He wobbled but managed to stay airborne thanks to Katie's quick reflexes.

A second later, chaos erupted.

"What the hell's your problem, Fred?" Oliver's voice cracked like thunder across the pitch as he landed hard, flexing his bruised arm.

Fred was already on the ground, face flushed, jaw locked tight. "It wasn't aimed at you. It went rogue. I was trying to keep it from slamming into Harry."

"Rogue?" Oliver stalked toward him. "You nearly took my bloody arm off!"

Fred yanked off his Quidditch robe and tossed it aside. "I didn't aim for you, Wood."

Their voices collided midair, taut with challenge. The tension was immediate and electric. Fred stood a few inches taller, but Oliver was all fire and forward motion.

George dropped down fast, wedging himself between them. "Oi, easy! It was an accident, alright? There's no need for hexes."

Ava crossed the pitch quickly, pulse rising. Fred's chest was rising and falling fast, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes flicked toward her, just for a second, before Oliver barked out, "I think I know what this is really about."

Fred's mouth opened, but he didn't say a word. Just turned, stiffly, and stalked off toward the locker rooms.

"Practice is over!" Oliver called after him. "Maybe Weasley'll use the time to cool his head!"

Silence settled like fog. Then, slowly, the rest of the team dismounted and began to pack up their gear. Ava stood awkwardly until Oliver turned to her with a softer look and crossed the distance between them.

"Sorry ye had to see that," he said, reaching for her waist.

"Are you alright?" she asked, eyeing the torn sleeve at his arm, the faint bloom of a bruise beneath it.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Aye, I'll live. Nothin' new… comes with bein' captain."

His hand slid to the small of her back, lingering there. The heat of his palm pressed through the thin wool of her jumper. She tensed, not quite pulling away, but not leaning in either.

"You look incredible, by the way," he murmured. "Nearly flew straight into the stands when I saw you."

Ava gave a nervous chuckle. "That might've been a bit dramatic."

"Could've been worth it," he said, voice dipping low as his fingers brushed the curve of her hip. "You always look serious in class. Focused. But out here…"

His gaze dropped, but not to her face.

"You're distractin', Ava."

Before she could answer, his hand slid just slightly higher beneath the hem of her jumper, fingertips grazing skin. She inhaled sharply.

"Oliver," she said, voice quiet. "We're still on the pitch."

He didn't move away immediately. "No one's watchin'."

She stepped back, small, but firm. Her heart was pounding in her throat, but she managed a half-smile. "Doesn't mean they won't."

He chuckled, clearly not rattled. "Can't blame me for tryin', yeah?"

Before she could form a reply, a voice called out from across the field.

"Ava! Professor Dumbledore wants to see you!"

She turned, spotting a first-year at the edge of the pitch, panting from the run.

"Duty calls," she said, brushing a hand through her hair.

Oliver leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softer this time. "See ye Sunday."

She gave a small nod and turned, walking briskly toward the castle. Her skin still buzzed where his hands had been, and yet, beneath the warmth and the flutter, a knot of unease coiled low in her stomach.

There was something different about Oliver lately. His charm hadn't dulled and he could still make her heart skip with a look, a smile, a perfectly timed compliment. But the way he handled attention, the way he seemed to treat it as permission, made her nerves spark like a frayed wire.

And the way Fred had looked at her… then walked away without a word…

She didn't know what any of it meant, and it pissed her off. She was smart, observant, analytical, and sharp when it came to everything else. But here she was, fumbling through feelings like they were in a language she'd never learned. Clueless. Off-balance. And hating every second of it.


Ava climbed the spiral staircase that led to the headmaster's office, her footsteps echoing faintly against the stone. The carved phoenix-shaped door creaked open of its own accord, and she stepped inside, half-expecting the air to be thick with candle smoke or mysterious scents. Instead, the room was warm, quiet, and surprisingly cozy. Bookshelves lined the walls, enchanted instruments ticked and hummed softly, and portraits of past headmasters dozed in their frames.

Professor Dumbledore stood behind his desk, reading a piece of parchment with a thoughtful expression. He looked up as she entered and offered a small, welcoming nod before gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Hello, Ava," he said, his voice as calm and clear as ever. "Please, have a seat."

She sat down slowly, her eyes drifting around the room. This was her first time inside the infamous office, and it felt like she was stepping into another world. The kind of place where secrets lived in the shadows and answers hung in the air just out of reach.

"You asked to see me, Professor?"

He nodded, setting the parchment down and taking a sip from a silver goblet. "Yes. I received a letter from your father earlier this week. He expressed… concern for your safety, especially with recent events. He's requested that you receive additional lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ava blinked. "He did?"

"I assured him," Dumbledore went on gently, "that your professor is more than capable, and that you're performing well. But he was quite insistent. So, I've spoken with Professor Lupin, and he's agreed to take you on for one-on-one sessions. Your first will be tomorrow evening."

Ava nodded slowly, trying to hide the strange twist in her stomach. "Of course, Professor. I… appreciate the opportunity. My father's always been a bit cautious."

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Caution is not always a flaw. And in this case, I suspect it will be useful." He paused, folding his hands neatly in front of him. "These lessons may offer more than just spellwork, Ava. I have a feeling you'll begin to uncover things about your magic, and perhaps about yourself."

Something in the way he said it made her pause. His blue eyes, usually twinkling with mischief or mystery, were steady now. Intent.

She swallowed and stood, smoothing her hands down her skirt. "Thank you, Professor. I'll be ready."

He nodded once. "Go with an open mind."

Ava offered a soft smile, then turned and headed for the door. As it closed behind her with a gentle thud, the flickering candlelight caught the edge of Dumbledore's expression. It was calm, but shadowed with something else. He folded his hands together and leaned back in his chair, gaze lingering on the now-empty seat.

"Ready or not," he murmured to no one at all, "she's already begun."


The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, the fire burning low in the grate. Ava stepped through the portrait hole and paused when she saw Fred on the couch, his gaze fixed on the flames. His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the edges. He must've just come from the showers. He wore flannel pajama bottoms, no shirt, and sat slouched with his elbows resting on his knees, the flickering light casting warm highlights over his bare shoulders.

She hesitated before walking over.

Without a word, she sat beside him, folding her legs under her. He didn't turn, but she knew he'd registered her presence. There was something heavy in the silence between them, thick with unspoken tension.

After a long pause, she finally spoke. "Rough day?"

He exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck. "Peachy," he muttered. "You saw practice. Total mess. I'm just… tired. Neck's killing me. Could do with being alone, really."

Ava offered a small smile, shifting a little closer. "I like being alone too," she said softly. "Good thing I found you… now we can be alone together."

Fred snorted under his breath, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "You stole my line."

She grinned. "And improved it."

He rubbed at the side of his neck again, wincing slightly. Without thinking, she reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle push.

"Move," she said. "Let me help."

Fred blinked. "What?"

"I happen to be pretty decent at neck rubs," she said with a soft smirk.

He gave her a skeptical look. "You? Really?"

"I'll take that as a challenge," she said, gently nudging him. "Come on. Sit in front of me."

Fred raised a brow, then dropped to the floor with a groan. Ava repositioned herself on the couch, cross-legged, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

The moment she started, Fred let out a deep, surprised sigh.

"Merlin," he muttered. "That's illegal, that is."

She laughed. "Told you."

Her fingers moved slowly, kneading into the knots beneath his skin. The tension in his body was immediate, coiled like a spring. His muscles resisted at first, then slowly began to loosen under her touch.

"You're really tense," she said, kneading a particularly tight spot. "Like… rock-solid tension. You need to relax."

"Can't. Quidditch. Testosterone. Complicated feelings." He sighed again as her hands moved lower down his spine. "You're really good at this…"

For a while, neither of them said a word.

"You okay?" she asked eventually, keeping her voice soft.

Fred shrugged. "M'fine. Just sore."

She tilted her head. "Quidditch sore or... 'you nearly punched your captain' sore?"

He gave a huff of amusement. "Bit of both."

Ava's fingers stilled for a moment on his shoulders, her voice quieter now. "Fred… can I ask you something?"

"Mmhm," he mumbled, his head tilted slightly forward as she worked along the base of his neck.

She hesitated, then said, "What happened today? Really."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached up and scratched the back of his head, the movement casual. Almost too casual.

"It wasn't about the bludger, was it?" she asked.

Fred let out a slow breath, the fire crackling softly between them.

"I dunno," he said, voice lower now. "Just… he gets under my skin sometimes, yeah?"

She arched a brow. "You mean Wood?"

He tilted his head to the side, just enough to glance back at her. "You're clever, Ava. You already know."

There was a pause. It wasn't awkward but instead charged.

She swallowed. "Then just say it."

Fred turned away again, letting his head hang for a beat. His fingers toyed with a loose thread in the hem of his pajama pants.

"I think I'd rather just enjoy this neck rub and not ruin the moment with emotionally inconvenient truths."

Ava blinked, caught off guard. "Emotionally inconvenient?"

Fred leaned back slightly, letting her hands rest over his shoulders now. "You know. Feelings. The bloody plague."

She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're still rubbing my neck. Curious."

"You never talk about it," she said gently. "How you're really feeling."

Fred tilted his head slightly but didn't answer.

She pushed, just a little. "You nearly punched Oliver today."

He gave a soft, tired huff. "Yeah, well. Happens."

"Not to you."

That earned her a brief, dry laugh. "Maybe I'm evolving."

Ava let her hands pause again. "Fred."

His voice was quieter now, serious. "You ever feel like something's right there…just out of reach? Like if you said the wrong thing, it'd all go sideways?"

Her breath caught, not because of the words themselves, but the weight behind them. There was something trembling at the edges of his voice…something unsaid.

"I think about that a lot," he added, voice rougher. "More than I'd like to."

She didn't know what to say to that. So instead, she shifted slightly and rested her palm lightly on his shoulder. Not rubbing, not teasing… just holding. Letting him feel her there. And for a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, without warning, without even really thinking Fred reached back, and his fingers brushed lightly along her leg.

Ava gasped. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But it was a sharp enough intake of breath that he immediately stilled.

"Shit–sorry," he muttered, already pulling away.

She stared at him for a moment, surprised by how much she didn't want him to stop. Her heart was beating faster now, not from fear, not even from confusion… just the slow, creeping realization that she didn't mind it. That she maybe wanted more.

"It's okay," she said quietly. Her voice was steady, but her hands were trembling just slightly where they rested on her knees.

Fred didn't look at her. Not right away. But after a beat, she shifted, slowly and subtly, and let her leg brush back against his hand.

He froze. Like he was asking permission with the pause alone.

And then, tentatively, he ran his fingers along the curve of her calf. Just a slow, featherlight touch. Testing. Listening.

Ava let out a shaky breath.

He kept going, a little more sure this time. His hand curved gently around her ankle, his thumb tracing small circles against her skin.

Then, like something unspoken passed between them, Fred leaned in.

He pressed a kiss, warm and soft, to the inside of her thigh. Nothing urgent. Nothing forceful. Just… real.

Ava's mouth parted slightly.

"Fred…" she said, his name more question than statement.

She didn't get the chance to ask what she meant to. To make sense of what had just passed between them. Because right then–

"Ava?"

Angelina's voice cut through the hush like a whipcrack.

Ava's head snapped up just in time to see her cousin standing at the bottom of the stairs, wide-eyed and slightly out of breath.

"I need help with Ancient Runes. Like, immediately." Her voice was pitched high, urgent, and borderline panicked.

Fred, still sitting on the floor, went rigid. He moved his hand and placed it in his lap, his gaze darting anywhere but Angelina.

Angelina's eyes flicked between the two of them. Ava flushed and wide-eyed while Fred stayed half-turned away from the fire, his face unreadable in the low light. Her brow twitched, but she didn't ask questions.

Instead, she marched over and grabbed Ava's wrist. "Let's go. Now. I'm two mistakes away from failing, and if I have to look at one more rune chart, I'll throw myself out the window."

Ava blinked. "But I–"

"Now, Ava."

She barely had time to glance at Fred before Angelina was practically dragging her up the stairs. She caught one last glimpse of him as she was pulled away, still on the floor, legs crossed, staring into the fire like it held answers.

Angelina didn't let go of Ava's wrist until they were upstairs and through the door to their shared dorm. The second the door clicked shut behind them, she spun around, eyes wide.

Katie and Alicia were already there, sitting cross-legged on Angelina's bed, halfway through a bag of Sugar Quills. Both looked up with matching expressions of curiosity like they'd been waiting for the next installment of a very juicy story.

"What the hell was that?" Angelina hissed, pointing dramatically toward the common room below.

Ava blinked. "What was what?"

"Oh, don't do that," Angelina snapped, crossing her arms. "I walked in on you practically sitting in his lap, and Fred looked like someone had just hit him with a Stunning Spell."

"She's not wrong," Katie added, wide-eyed. "You two looked really cozy."

"I mean, I saw thigh," Alicia said bluntly, raising a brow. "Thigh, Ava."

Ava flushed, backing toward the edge of her bed and sinking onto it. "It wasn't… I mean, it wasn't anything."

Angelina looked like she was about to combust. "It wasn't anything? Ava, you were straddling the couch and he was on the floor like some sort of worshipper–"

"Oh my god," Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You're being dramatic. It did not look like that at all."

"Did you kiss?" Katie asked, her voice high with glee.

"No!" Ava said quickly, then hesitated. "Not exactly. He–he kissed my leg. But it just…happened. It wasn't like… planned."

"He kissed your what?!" Angelina practically yelled.

"Oh my…" Katie said with a giggle, covering her mouth.

Alicia grinned like a cat who'd caught something small and squeaky. "Was it a good kiss?"

"Please stop," Ava said, mortified.

Katie flopped back onto the bed dramatically. "You have to tell us. Was it better than Oliver?"

"There's nothing to compare it to!" Ava snapped. "Oliver hasn't– I mean, not really– Look, I don't know what's happening, okay?"

Angelina sat beside her, finally softening. "Aves… it's not that we're judging. We're just… concerned. You've got Fred kissing your leg and Oliver asking you out and meanwhile, you're acting like none of it's a big deal."

"I don't know if it's a big deal," Ava admitted, her voice quiet. "I thought I liked Oliver. I do like Oliver. But Fred… I don't know. It's like every time I'm around him, something inside me shifts. And I never thought of him that way before. Not until recently."

Katie sighed. "Well, for what it's worth… I think he's been thinking of you that way for a long time."

Ava looked up, startled. "What?"

"Fred's not subtle," Alicia said with a shrug. "You just weren't paying attention before."

Angelina studied Ava's face for a long moment, then sighed and reached over, taking her hand. "Just… don't string them both along, okay? If this is something real with Fred, don't play games. And if it's Oliver you want… you owe Fred the truth."

Ava nodded slowly, her mind already spinning again. She didn't know what she wanted. But she was starting to understand that eventually, she'd have to make a choice.