Make Some Magic: A Fred Weasley Fanfic

Chapter 17: Loose

Ryn_
She tipped her head back with a open smile as the music flowed through her body and into the air.
She felt light, carefree, and full of energy. Her cousins around her danced the same and swayed in the crowd, beaming with intoxicated buzz.

Every now and again she'd glance back at the twins, and they seemed to he enjoying themselves. Her cousins had some muggle music playing. It was fast strong and amazing. Ryn found her body moving without even intending for it to. If her muggle family knew one thing, it was how to party. Olivia yelled out Ryn's name before tossing her a bottle of Absinthe about the size of a small pencil case. Immediately she knew her line of action to take.
She tipped her head back and yelled,
"Weasley's!"
Within three seconds the boys were either side of her. She poured a good amount into her mouth before handing the bottle to George and turning to Fred.
Fred frowned before placing his hands on her waist and saying,
"Where's mine?"
Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she guided him down onto his knees, and threaded her hand into the hair on the back of his head. His lips parted as she tilted his head upwards and tugged his mouth open. Slowly, she let the absinthe fall from her mouth into his, feeding him the alcohol. When the last of it had passed from her to him she finished it off with a wet kiss, and he groaned into her mouth.

She giggled lowly and stood back up, him following close behind. She was about to turn around when he grabbed her forearm and forced her to keep facing him.
"What was that?"
He asked, and she played coy, smiling and saying,
"It was Absinthe; a muggle...potion, of sorts. It'll have you on your ass in no time."
She patted his chest before facing the crowd again. The moon overhead shined down on them and cast a shimmering grey aura. It was hypnotic. Ryn turned to go and find some of her fun cousins, but he fisted a hand into the back of her shirt and pulled her back against him.
Her breath hitched.
The soft and heated feeling of his lips brushed against the back of her neck.
"There's a certain point where I'll stop allowing you to tease me so incessantly, Auxuère."
"But I enjoy seeing you squirm."

Her response seemed to catch him off guard, because he didn't move. Not when she reached back and gripped the front of his thigh to feel the powerful muscle tense. Not when rocked lightly back against him to the sway of the music.
"Lose your swagger, weasley?"
She mocked, and he placed a light kiss on the back of her neck.
Someone called her name and he chuckled lowly. With a light shove, he shoed her away and said,
"Go play."
She winked and sauntered off towards whoever had called her. Fred only dragged his hand through his hair and went to go find his brother.

Fred_
She left him reeling. His mind spinning and weaving fantasies about the woman who practically held his leash and collar.
He was so caught up in his head about Ryn that he didn't realise George was standing in front of him and saying his name.
"-red!"
His ears tuned back in, and the music and voices blasted him all at once. He shook his head quickly, and found his vision swaying lightly.
"Yeah?"

He said, trying his best to sound like he could think straight. George spread his feet on the grass a little further and opened his eyes as wide as they could go before saying,
"Right, whatever that was that we drank, no more until we soak it up. Got it?"
"Why? Reckon you can't hold your liquor, brother?"
Fred pointed a glance at Georges spread feet and wide eyes, and his brother only grinned,
"Like you're one to talk?"
"Whys that?"
"This is why,"
George lightly shoved Fred by his shoulder, and Fred found himself stumbling back a step or two. A giddy smile pulled at his lips when a light, buzzing feeling, began to spread through his body. It warmed his chest and fingertips, and also his groin.
Frederick Weasley suddenly found himself looking around for a familiar head of blue hair.
Instead, a guy came over.
Well, "a guy" wasn't really a proper description. It's just that Fred didn't know the man who sauntered over. He was tall– but not taller than Fred and his twin –and lightly muscled, with a cocky grin and dark hair.
"I must know, dear Weasley's, is my most-beloved cousin shagging the both of you? Or just one?"

Fred locked eyes with George.
The stranger ran his tongue over his teeth before saying,
"No judging! Scouts honour."
"What's a Scout?"
"Not important. What is important is whether or not my cousin has decided that a broomstick isn't the only thing she wants to ride all hours of the day. I simply have to know."
Fred straightened up as best he could and blinked a few times at the man, and said,
"Guessing you're a cousin of hers?"
He didn't answer.
No, not at all.
He only stepped forward and began to grope Fred's biceps. The dark haired wizard whistled and gripped harder,
"I must say, she's done well. Bloody solid, you are. And this hair– oh my lord, the size of your hands! Wait, wait...let me see–"
Fred almost fell on his ass as the guy yanked his leg into the air and inspected the size of his foot.
"If you're going to grope and prod me like a herbology git, can I at least know who the hell you are, mate?"
"Oh! I'm Sev. And you, Mr. Weasley, have an exceptionally large foot."
"And?"
"And so you can give me a call anytime. Same to you, gorgeous,"

Sev said, throwing a flirty glance at George. Before the twins could retort, Sev sauntered away into the crowd. Fred and George took one look at each other, glanced at their feet, and burst into hysterical laughter so intense they couldn't feel their cheeks.
Ryn's family was definitely interesting.
~~~~~~~~~
An intense, painful pounding haunted Fred's skull. It scraped nails down the walls of his mind and gripped his thoughts with burning, merciless hands wrapped in ice.

A pitiful groan escaped his throat as he tried to feel at his head, and whatever was causing him so much pain. His own fingertips felt foreign and strange as they rifled through his messy hair. The strands burned as they brushed the skin on his hand, as if he were combing through fire.
Cracking one eye open, he realised he was in a bed. Or rather, a couch.
One he couldn't remember crashing into.
He scanned the ceiling lazily.
He was in the attic. On a couch. A thin blanket draped over him.
Pale sunlight steamed through the air in solid beams and seared his eyes, causing the pain to intensify. He closed his eyes again and let his hand fall.
"Where..."
He tried, but words failed him. His throat felt like sandpaper, void of any moisture. He was a mess.
Lips cracked (probably bleeding), body stiff, head pounding, stomach roiling, feet feeling like they'd been shredded.
"Ah, awake, are we?"

Someone said, and he couldn't bring himself to respond. Though he did recognise the voice as Olivia Auxuère. Thankfully, she spoke softly. Enough so that it didn't hurt his ears as she whispered,
"Don't worry about it, but,"

Oh, fantastic, he thought–
"You drank something very strong. The party– out on the lawn –was two days ago. You three passed out and we brought you back to the house. Ryn is downstairs. George is still asleep. Get some more sleep, and come down when you're ready."
The woman gave him a reassuring pat on the arm before she left the room. Even though his eyes were closed, Fred pulled a face and tried to recall what the hell had happened.
He came up blank.
A light snoring sounded from somewhere in the room. George snorted in his sleep and mumbled a few words of gibberish before drifting back into snoring.

Fred, very slowly, tugged the blanket up and hid his face from the world.