Playing With Fire * { Fred Weasley }

Daring and Caution

Fred and I walked into dinner late that evening, hand in hand and all eyes on us. Normally, this is the sort of thing that would make me feel incredibly self-conscious, but by that point, I was too tired, cold, and hungry to pay much mind to the eyes that lingered on us as we walked in. And I suppose there was also something about the firm grip of Fred's hand on mine that made me feel a little braver.

Aidan drew my gaze like a magnet, all tousled hair and ice blue eyes. He sat at the Ravenclaw table with his friends, Genevieve sticking out with her Hufflepuff crest and bright smile. It was hard to look at them and not feel pang of sadness, a lump in my throat, a twist of the knife—but at least it felt a little duller, a little more distant than it had earlier that afternoon. Genevieve caught my eye and smiled, looking at Fred and raising her eyebrows at me, as if to say, "I told you so." I smiled back and shrugged, trying not to look like I was secretly longing for the boy sitting next to her.

I pulled my eyes away before Aidan got the chance to look up. Seeing them together wasn't as painful as it could have been, but I wasn't quite ready to meet Aidan's gaze. Not yet.

I looked toward the Gryffindor table, searching for Bea. I found her, sitting across from George, listening with a sort of half-smile as he told what seemed to be a very elaborate story. She'd set her bag on the seat next to her and she moved it to the floor when she saw me approaching.

"You're a peach," I said, sitting down next to her as Fred took the seat across from me.

Her eyes flickered from Fred to me, taking in our winter coats and hats. Her lips curled up into a smile that was almost foxlike in its slyness. "And where have you been?"

"On a walk," I said, ladling a serving of beef barley soup into my bowl, letting the steam warm my fingers, and hoping that was going to be the end of her questioning.

This was, of course, foolish of me.

"In this weather?" She frowned, her gaze shifting to Fred. "Did she do something to upset you?"

"It was quite romantic, I'll have you know," said Fred, passing me a basket of rolls.

"She doesn't need to know," I said, taking a roll and tearing into quarters. I dipped a piece in my soup and took a bite. "And anyway, it's fine outside, just a bit windy."

"Twenty-third of January," said George, making a careful note in that damnable notebook. "Arrived late to dinner, claimed to have been on a walk." His eyes flicked up to me. His expression was dead serious, but he couldn't quite hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Highly irregular."

"George Weasley," I said, pointing at him with my spoon, "if we were not in full view of the entire school, I would use a Fire Making Spell on that notebook."

"Subject C highly aggressive," said Bea, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she looked at me. She turned to George. "Analyst Pierce presents theory of outdoor sexual adventures."

I elbowed her in the ribs. "Bea."

"Note the physical aggression," she said to George as he made additional notes.

"Her ears are turning pink," noted Fred with a crooked half-smile.

"Fascinating," said George, writing furiously.

I wonder if sixth year is too late to change houses. Or friends. Maybe schools, while I'm at it.

"Well," said Bea, flashing me a smile that seemed to be conciliatory, "it seems things are going well for you two if this is your second date in less than twenty-four hours." Her gaze shifted sharply to Fred. "Although I'm quite disappointed that you did not discuss this with me ahead of time, Fred. Charlotte is quite busy and as her social secretary, I can't very well have her gallivanting off with boys all the time."