The Girl who Survived (Fred Weasley)

CH 97. A Wedding

"I could drop the towel," He said, raking his fingers along my waist. "We could still find somewhere to run off to if this doesn't suit you," He said, pulling me in closer as one arm pulled at my waist and the other went across my chest, hand resting on my shoulder, where he gently placed his head.

"How about we start with that haircut? Fleur and your mum will kill us if we don't look our best for the family photos," I said. I opened the rummage drawer once more, pulling out a pair of sheers and a comb.

He took a step back, pulling a chair over to the middle of the bathroom, facing the mirror as he did so. "It's not real though. Is it?" He asked, a bit more quietly than before. Dropping his chin to his chest for a moment, picking at his nails.

And he was right. It wasn't like a simple place setting that would go unnoticed by those that didn't know it belonged. Or like a center piece that had less flowers than those around it. It wasn't real. Not a full family photo at least. Not with the only member of the next generation missing.

I stood behind him, pulling my hand through his hair, moving it away from his face. "Who are we if we can't protect her?" I asked, matching his volume. Careful not to say the wrong thing and begin another argument. "Mum and Bill understand. It's just safer this way," I said, beginning to snip at the strands that fell longer than the rest.

His eyelids fluttered open, turning to look at me as I combed his hair back. "In what world will she be safer without us?" he asked, looking at me, waiting for an answer. One that I didn't know how to give him. One that only existed in a world where I didn't.

"This one," I said sternly, using my forefinger to guide his head to have him looking forward. Continuing on so he wouldn't look lopsided. I dragged a comb through his hair once more, evening out both sides as I moved to stand in front of him. "When all this is over, she won't have missed a thing," I said, quickly thinking on my feet. Dancing around the fact that I knew I wouldn't be.

And in a moment of outreach, I felt his hand slide up my thigh, moving through the opening in the towel. Stopping just as he reached my middle.

"Oi. You really want me to muck this up don't you?" I asked sarcastically. Letting out a tiny gasp as he removed his hand and grabbed on to my hips to sit me on top of him. Rocking back and forth. Gentle, but deeply. "What are you doing?"

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked in a whisper. "All of us safe, while you're away?" he asked, continuing the rocking motion, pressing into me. His towel, the only thing that separated our skin. "Why are you doing this to me?" He whispered, hiding any drop of what he was feeling. Using only his words to tell me the truth.

Unable to provide him with any means of a satisfactory answer, I wrapped one arm around his neck, and moved the other to rest on his face. He was only doing what I had asked of him days ago. Just one more. Just one more. That's all that I could ask for. Was just one more moment in a time of uncertainty.

"Oi!" the raping knock on the door bursting though the moment like an unwanted visitor. "Don't use up all the hot water in there!" Charlie said as he continued banging his fist on the wood frame.

We stopped moving, locking eyes for a moment as we shared a thought. Wondering if we had enough time to finish what I clearly felt had started underneath me. But as the knocking continued, we knew that we wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," I said, leaning forward to press my lips to his gently, meaning the words more than he would ever know. Taking a kiss that I wanted never to end. I could honestly have stayed the remainder of the day in the tiny bathroom and never have needed anything other than what I had between my hands. All I ever wanted was here.