Forever Mine: My Time With Fred Weasley

Forever Mine, Rewritten: Chapter 5

My walk to the girl's lavatory was a leisurely stroll; I moved at a snail's pace allowing my eyes to flow naturally around, absorbing my surroundings and allowing them to melt in my mind. A left off the entrance hall led to a short corridor lined with a few doors, one of which bears a dull nameplate that read Argus Filch. This short hall cut both left and right; to the right and opened into an airy corridor that led to the ladies' room. My visit was as long as I could make it without seeming suspicious or like I had bowel issues, and I finally began my return to the Great Hall. Near the exit of the lavatory corridor, the figures populating the frames upon the walls called out to me.

"Oi! New girl!" A gaggle of country gentlemen tumbled through a few paintings after me, calling out a chorus of "Who are you?" and "where ya from?"

I stopped for a moment and faced them, crossing my arms and raising a skeptical brow, "My name's Seph," my plain response displeased them and they began clamoring boorishly, causing me to quickly lose interest in the interaction.

I was beginning to abandon the group of frames when I ran into a solid body. It merely stumbled a few steps back, but I was moving at such a pace that the collision knocked me to the floor, ass-first. At first disoriented, all I could do was grumble and rub my tailbone, which throbbed horribly. My legs were splayed out in front of me, robes disheveled and revealing hints of my nylons. A pair of holey but clean tennis shoes were positioned directly before my feet, and I pulled my knees quickly to my chest and hopped to my feet. I got light-headed from standing too fast but was determined to come face-to-face with the other half of the collision. He was tall, lean, and nonchalant with an overgrown sort of look to him. His arms, which were too long, were tucked to the side with his hands in his pockets, and his ginger brow furrowed at me as if I had done something wrong. His shoulder-length red hair was half-down with the top pulled into a small bun and a few loose tendrils framed his face.

"What?" I snapped, straightening my clothing, brushing my hair out of my face, and getting my first good look at the face of the perpetrator. Beneath his brow sat two perfectly almond-shaped brown eyes glittering with playfulness, and his sharp nose led to a set of soft, pink lips which were set in an impish grin.

"What, what?" Replied he, rolling forward and backward on the balls of his feet like an eager child. His lips were thick and well-sculpted, but not particularly large, and his angular nose was speckled with light freckles. He looked older than me and was certainly on puberty's better side, but his eyes expressed vibrant youthfulness. His mouth flickered into a crooked smirk, the right side dipping in a mischievous way I didn't trust. I made a face at him, annoyed with his carefree air but moderately attracted to his obvious attraction to me.

"Stop looking at me like that, you tosser," my words betrayed my body, and my eyes betrayed my words, connecting the patches of freckles all across his skin from his cheeks to the backs of his large hands, which had emerged from his pockets. He held up his hands like 'hey, what are ya gonna do?'

"You first." his voice was thick with a Devonshire accent. I rolled my eyes and scoffed a light laugh. "I wanna hear the real thing," when he said it, the little laugh got caught in my throat and I almost choked.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" my mouth was dry by now, all moisture evacuating my mouth and dispersing elsewhere.

"Your laugh, I want to hear it," he stepped closer to me so that I had to lift my chin to meet his gaze. I noticed that I was frowning, my thick eyebrows arched and furrowed. We were now about two feet apart, and he suddenly lifted one of his hands and pointed a finger; at first, I thought he intended to touch me, but instead, he just pointed at me. "I like your hair."

Two small sparkly pink clips crowned either side of my head, securing the forelocks of my kinky dark hair against my scalp while the rest of my unruly curls rested just below my shoulders. A single coiled strand was loose in my face, and it kept sticking to my freshly-applied lip gloss.

"Thanks," I said flatly, "I grew it myself."

His beautiful lips popped open and beautiful, well-practiced laughter omitted the mouth which often smiled. His glee was contagious, and my lips revealed a reluctant smile which he noticed as his laughter faded. His eyes locked with mine, and although hints of mischief still danced within, a new emotion clouded them; he raised his eyebrows as if about to propose something and my gut immediately decided to abort the conversation.

"Okay, well bye," I blurted, and then brushed past him to continue my return to the Feast, which was likely winding down.

He didn't try to stop me, and receding footsteps suggested that he took off down the hall opposite the lavatory, but as we went our separate ways, his voice singsonged down the empty corridor, "I wouldn't go that way if I were you."

And, it being my first day at Hogwarts, I very well should have listened, but instead, I threw a middle finger up behind my head and continued strutting defiantly down Filch's corridor.

"Well," I heard the redhead sigh, "alright then."

Not a moment later, I heard a telltale light fizzing, got a whiff of something horrific, and then a soft boom echoed through the hall, brown smoke suddenly erupting around me. I gasped, recognizing the scent immediately, and closed my eyes in preparation for the aftermath of the dungbomb. However, no putrid scent came and my eyes and nose were not burning terribly, so I peeked open my eyes and realized that my head was encased in a translucent bubble. Although my sight was clear within the Bubble-Head Charm parameters, I waited a few minutes for the brown smog to fade before sprinting to the intersection of the lavatory corridor and the one he had taken. I waved my hand as I came to the place, and the bubble melted around me and dripped away. The hall was empty, the boy was nowhere to be seen, and I did not know where the left corridor led, so I stomped back towards the Great Hall until I found the painted country  men who wouldn't stop sexually harassing me earlier. They hooted as I came near.

"Hush, you oily little smudges," I hissed, swooping in on their frame so my nose was nearly touching the canvas; before they could complain, I continued, "have you seen a sneaky no-good ginger around here?"

"Ah, lots of them around these parts," responded one little painted man, "what's it worth to ya?"

I scowled, thinking it worth quite a bit - I was immensely interested in the handsome Stink-Bomb-ginger, but as I did not have much to wager, I simply huffed and began to retreat. Then, one of them called out, "It was a Weasley, miss!"

I turned around, my brow fixed with perplexion, "Ew," I grumbled, "what's a Weasley?"