Unreal

Chp 58 Closer than Before

Slowly.

Softly.

And kissed him.

It wasn't much — just a press of lips, tentative and warm.
A quiet kind of bold.
The kind that said: I don't know what this is, but I want it anyway.

I started to pull back.

Just an inch.

Just enough to catch my breath, to make sure this wasn't a dream —
And then Fred's hand came up.

Gentle.

Calloused.

He cupped my jaw like he'd done it a thousand times before, thumb brushing my cheek — and kissed me again.

Deeper this time.

Still slow.
Still soft.
But surer — like he knew I wouldn't pull away this time.

Fred kissed like he meant it.
Like he'd been holding this in for weeks — and now that he had me, he wasn't going to rush it.

His mouth was warm.
Gentle at first, then firmer, coaxing.
Like he was trying to tell me something he didn't know how to say out loud.

He tasted faintly of cinnamon and Firewhisky — sharp and sweet and dangerous.

His lips moved with a kind of lazy precision, tilting just slightly, dragging the kiss out like he wanted to savor it. Like he was learning what made me melt and testing how far he could push.

And I—

I forgot how to breathe.

One of his hands slid to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing beneath my ear — and that did it.
That ended me.
I swear, I felt it in my spine.

Everywhere he touched felt like static.
Not loud, not frantic — just a low hum I never wanted to stop.

And the way he kissed —
Confident.
Steady.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like he was sure of me.

Like I was his.

My heart didn't just race — it spiraled.
My head went light.
My fingers curled into his coat, holding onto something solid before I drifted completely off the ground.

And in that moment, nothing else existed.
Not the Goblet.
Not the tournament.
Not the fear clawing in my chest.

Just Fred Weasley.
And the way he kissed me like I was the most natural thing in the world.

••••••

His hand stayed at my jaw — steady, warm — like he was making sure I didn't go anywhere.

And the kiss?

Deeper now. Hungrier.

Like he was starved and I was the only thing on the menu.

I felt my back arch slightly from the stone ledge, fingers clutching at his sleeve like that would anchor me, like any part of me was still grounded.

He kissed like he meant it. Like he didn't care we were in the middle of a bloody courtyard or that I had a life-threatening task in a few days. Tongue sliding against mine, slow but sure — like he was learning me. Tasting every second.

And I—

I had to pull back.

Or I'd combust.

I did it breathlessly, lips swollen, heart absolutely losing its mind.

Fred blinked down at me, lips parted, freckles brighter in the moonlight like the world had shifted around us.

I tried to regain the smallest shred of dignity.