Chapter 11 - The Date
The air outside Honeydukes was crisp and carried the sweet scent of sugar and autumn leaves. Ava clutched the small paper bag in her hands, still warm from the fudge Oliver had insisted on buying for her. Her cheeks were pink, partly from the chill and partly from the quiet thrill of the day so far. Hogsmeade had looked like a postcard: shop windows glowing, students wandering hand-in-hand, everything buzzing with laughter and warmth.
But now, they were walking down the dirt path toward the edge of the village toward the lake.
Oliver had taken her hand as they stepped off the main road, his grip firm, confident. She hadn't really questioned it. He was her date, after all, and the little twist of nerves in her stomach could be chalked up to anticipation. Right?
Still, her steps slowed slightly as the trees thickened. The trail curved into a quiet clearing, the light filtering through golden leaves above.
"C'mere," Oliver said, tugging her closer by the hand. "Let's take a break, aye?"
Ava smiled hesitantly. "It's beautiful out here."
He grinned and looped an arm around her waist. "Not as beautiful as you."
She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile. "That line's ancient."
"Ancient for a reason," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Works like a charm."
He kissed her shoulder, lips grazing the spot just below the fold of her sweater. Her skin prickled. Ava shivered slightly, tugging the white fold-over collar of Leia's sweater up higher around her bare shoulders, pulling away gently and letting out a nervous laugh.
"Ye cold," he asked, moving closer to her. "Could always warm ye up, if ye like."
Before she could respond, his hand slid around her waist and brushed lower, fingers grazing the curve of her hip, then dipping far too casually across the back of her jeans. She stiffened, caught off guard, and laughed awkwardly.
"Maybe not in the middle of the woods," she said, trying to keep the tone light as she stepped just slightly away. However, he didn't take the hint.
"C'mon, Ava," he said, suddenly turning to face her fully. "Romantic spot, nobody around. Perfect time to stop pretendin' ye haven't been thinkin' about it."
Before she could speak, his hands gripped her waist and pulled her in. He dipped his head, lips brushing her exposed shoulder. "Ye're drivin' me mad in that sweater," he whispered against her skin. "All day, all I could think about was this…"
Ava's breath hitched. "Oliver, don't–"
But he was already leaning in again, his lips finding the side of her neck with more pressure this time, urgent and insistent. His hand slid up the back of her sweater, fingers cool against her skin.
She flinched, the chill of the intrusion jolting her. "Oliver," she said, pushing at his chest, "stop."
He gave a low laugh like it was all just harmless flirting. "Oh, come on, love… don't play hard to get."
"I said stop." Her voice cracked with force now, both hands planted against his chest. "I told you no. And I don't like feeling like I'm not in control."
She stepped away, gravel crunching sharply under her boots as she turned to walk. But then his hand caught hers.
"Wait–wait," he said quickly, spinning her gently to face him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" He wasn't grinning now, but his voice still had that charming edge. "I'm just… not used to takin' things slow."
Ava stared at him, her pulse still hammering in her ears. "You don't say."
He rubbed a hand through his hair, a sheepish tilt to his shoulders. "It's not that I don't like you. I do. A lot. I just get carried away sometimes. You're bloody gorgeous, Ava." He reached for her hand again, trying to draw her back in.
Her body stiffened. She didn't move. Her breath came quick, not from excitement, but nerves. Maybe even fear. "Oliver…" she said again, firmer this time, "I mean it."
Then a sound split the trees and the wind howled.
A sudden, violent gust ripped through the woods, scattering leaves, dust, and twigs into the air. The trees groaned under the force, their limbs bending like they might snap. Ava shielded her face with her arms, turning instinctively.
"What the hell–?!" Oliver shouted, his voice almost lost to the roar.
Another gust slammed into them. Ava stumbled back, barely catching her footing as the world around them became a swirl of earth and sky. Wind wrapped around them like a living thing, howling, screaming.
Then came the shriek of splintering wood.
A thick branch cracked overhead and crashed down between them with a thunderous crack, missing Oliver by inches. He spun, eyes wide. "What in bloody hell is happenin'?!" he yelled.
But Ava could barely hear him because at that moment, the wind surged upward.
Oliver's feet left the ground.
She gasped, frozen as he was lifted clean into the air, limbs flailing against the tightening spiral of the whirlwind. "Oi–what the–LET ME DOWN–!"
His voice was swallowed by the roar.
And then… he vanished into the funnel.
The wind turned on her next.
Ava spun to run, but her foot caught on a root, and her ankle twisted violently beneath her. She hit the ground hard with a cry of pain. Her breath tore from her lungs as the wind pressed her down.
"Shit–" she hissed, pushing herself upright despite the agony in her ankle.
Debris flew all around her, stinging her skin. She limped, half-blind, through the chaos, arms raised against the gale. Her eyes darted through the blur until she spotted it — the hollow at the base of an old tree.
She didn't think. She just ran.
She dropped to her knees and crawled inside the narrow opening, curling into herself as the storm raged outside. The wind clawed at the tree's edges, howling like a wounded animal, but it couldn't quite reach her. She tucked her head down, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her ankle throbbed. Her lungs burned. Her hands trembled.
Then… silence.
Her breath was the only sound she could hear, loud and ragged.
Then…footsteps.
Fast. Heavy. She held her breath.
"Ava!"
She flinched. Her body braced for the worst. But the voice… it was familiar. Urgent. Safe.
"Fred?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
A shape moved in front of the hollow, and a moment later, his face appeared. His cheeks were flushed, hair tousled, and his eyes wide with worry.
"Oh, thank Merlin," he breathed.
He crouched and reached out. "You alright?"
She nodded shakily. "Ankle. I–I think I twisted it."
"Okay. I've got you."
His arms wrapped around her… warm, strong, anchoring. She didn't even try to stand. She just buried her face into his chest and let the adrenaline finally drain from her.
Fred gently lifted her out of the hollow and turned as two figures burst through the trees.
"Fred! You got her?" George called, his coat flapping and hair wild.
"Is she okay?" Lee asked, breathless behind him, eyes scanning the area like something might still be coming.
"She's alright," Fred said firmly. "She needs help walking."
George moved to his side, hands in his pockets. "You know, for a guy who summoned a bloody tornado, you're surprisingly gentle."
"I didn't mean to hit her with it," Fred muttered, glancing at Ava with a guilty look. "It was only meant for Wood."
Ava blinked up at him. "You made the tornado?"
"Damn right he did," George said. "Lee and I didn't even know he could until he was halfway through summoning it."
Fred ignored them. He was focused only on Ava. He knelt, eased off her boot with gentle fingers, and winced when she flinched.
"It's sprained," he confirmed. "We're getting you back."
He turned around, steadying her as she climbed onto his back. Ava winced as her ankle throbbed, but the moment Fred hooked his arms beneath her knees and rose to his feet, the pain dulled under the warmth of his grip. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek lightly against his shoulder. He was solid. Steady. She didn't realize how badly she'd needed to feel safe until right then.
George fell into step beside them, hands shoved in his coat pockets, his pace slower than usual. Lee lingered a few paces behind, glancing toward the lake where the chaos had unfolded. The fading ripples on the water shimmered under the clouds like nothing had ever happened.
"How long were you following me?" Ava asked softly, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.
"Since the Great Hall," George replied. "Had a feeling you might need a bit of backup. Good thing we did."
Lee let out a snort. "More than a bit. You owe me a Galleon, by the way," he added, glancing at George. "I said he'd hex him before Honeydukes. A bloody tornado counts. Overachiever."
"You said before. This was clearly after," George shot back, crouching to retrieve the bag of sweets that had fallen during the chaos. He peered inside and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece. "Didn't know you could do that with wind, mate," he said to Fred, giving him a sideways look. "Pretty sure you could teach the fifth years a thing or two."
He took a bite, chewed, then blinked. "Is this their new Butterbrew fudge?"
Fred didn't answer at first. His jaw flexed, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but laced with steel. "It was meant to scare him off. Didn't think he'd need a full-on tornado to get the point."
Ava shifted slightly against him, her grip around his shoulders tightening. "What did you do to him?" she asked after a moment.
Fred didn't turn his head. "Sent him for a swim."
Lee whistled through his teeth. "He's probably halfway to the bottom of the lake. Might wanna check for gills later."
"I think he landed near the boat shed," George added, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. "Serves him right."
"He's lucky all he got was a dip," Lee muttered.
Fred didn't speak. His grip just tightened subtly around her, arms flexing as he adjusted her higher, holding her like she might disappear if he loosened up even a little.
Ava closed her eyes. Her heartbeat was finally starting to slow. "He stopped," she said quietly. "Right before. I think… I think he realized what he was doing."
Fred was silent for a long beat. Then he said, almost too softly to hear, "He shouldn't have started."
George glanced at his brother but didn't say anything. The tension radiating off Fred was still sharp, but there was something else beneath it too. Something fragile.
Lee kicked a rock off the path and shook his head. "D'you think he even remembers how to get back to the castle soaked like that? Poor bloke's gonna catch pneumonia."
"I hope the bloody squid gives him a hug," George muttered.
Fred didn't laugh. Ava felt his shoulders rise with a long breath, and her own did the same. She let her head rest fully against him this time, her eyes fluttering closed.
They walked in silence for a while, the castle coming into view between the trees, turrets bathed in warm afternoon light. The wind had calmed, the air turning still and quiet as if the forest itself had exhaled.
Then, finally, Ava murmured, "Thank you."
Fred shifted her slightly again, his hands steady beneath her knees. "You don't have to thank me."
"I mean it," she whispered. "You didn't have to come after me."
He hesitated. Then, gently: "Yeah. I did."
And somehow, despite the chill in the air the throb in her ankle, and the ache in her chest… the wind didn't seem quite as cold anymore.
