Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

13. His and mine are the same

"We were thinking of heading into Hogsmeade, our other brother Bill is going to be there, fancy joining us?" Fred perked up from next me to, a soft and pure smile pulling at his lips, although I knew the intentions behind it were certainly not innocent.

"Sure, it will be nice to meet another Weasley, as though I don't already have enough of them wreaking havoc upon my life" I teased playfully, as Ron jokingly hit me across the shoulder from his seat next to me.

We all made our way towards Hogsmeade, the harsh autumn air bitter, and stung slightly as its intensity increased. Although the beautiful hues of burnt orange and muted yellows scattered across the floor made it hard to care about the strength of the wind.

I watched as Harry and Ginny got themselves in a heated debate, likey about quidditch, whilst everyone else was in fits of laughter.

I hung behind slightly as we walked, watching as Fred threw his head back in uncontrollable laughter, his defined jaw highlighted perfectly by the warm sunlight, his neck perfectly exposed. I let my eyes linger longer than they should have, my gaze transfixed on this perfect adonis.

"It is so painfully obvious you know" A voice spoke from beside me that knocked me from my trance, a light scarlett creeping onto my cheeks and I registered Hermione next to me, following my stare over to Fred.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" I chuckled, desperate to brush off her comment but I knew Hermione's intellect would effortlessly see through my lie.

"Sure you don't" She gigged, rolling her eyes and grabbing my hand, rejoining us with the rest of the group.

We had since approached an old, dark coloured building, a large contrast from Honeydukes, that shone brightly just down the path. The large sign above, reading 'Hogs Head', creaked slightly as the heavy breeze passed, but the laughter erupting from within seemed to compensate for the Pub's repellent and uninviting atmosphere.

The group made their way to the largest booth in the back of the pub, myself and Fred hanging back to carry the drinks over the table once they were ready.

Once the others were no longer in sight, Fred's hands wasted no time in finding my waist and his gaze immediately locked with mine, a hungry and sinful glint glazing over his eyes, although they still held a soft expression.

"Shame this morning was cut short" He whispered, leaning in and placing a gentle peck on my lips, which I reciprocated for a quarter of a second before releasing myself from his grip, anxious of who could see.

"Me too" I muttered up at him, biting my lip slightly which immediately forced his stare to momentarily drop from my eyes down to lips and back up again.

But before he could comment, a lady placed one cold, and six warm glasses of butterbeer on the bar and we carried them back over to the booth.

A chorus of thank you's were murmured as we placed the glasses down and slipped into the booth, Ron shooting me a disgruntled look, furrowing his brows at my glass.

"Can I help you Ronald?" I chuckled, noting his expression.

"You drink your Butterbeer cold?" He questioned, looking rather perplexed.

And as I opened my mouth to speak, a deep, gravely and somewhat familiar voice made itself known from beside the table. "All the best people drink it cold" He chuckled, and at his words, I turned my attention away from Ron and towards the man stood over the booth.

My eyes widened and my breath hitched slightly, catching in the back of my throat, as I was met with the last person I expected to see stood in front of me.