touch. {f.w.}

chapter five.

i could never understand why you always believed their word, above mine.

The next morning had gone like any other before it; Lydia awoke to Angelina and Alicia making their beds and brushing their hair, uniforms neatly placed on and both Chasers ready to start the day. Lydia dressed herself in the same disheveled manner she had each day before; in no rush to enter the Great Hall at all.

She had the rest of the night, or rather early morning really, to think about what to do with Fred. What to expect from him when they saw each other again.

It was very clear to Lydia that the two of them had crossed an unspoken line last night and she wanted to explore it openly with him--but his previous behaviors revealed he was not as willing. Lydia was sure he'd probably use every excuse ever created to escape her if she were to even try and approach him with the issue. It confused her to no end. One minute he will be all over her and then the next he's shutting her out. Gave her nothing more than emotional whiplash.

As she approached the Great Hall that lung-crushing feeling came knocking. It beat on her heart, freezing the stuttering organ painfully in place as she walked closer to their usual spot. Fred was already there, sitting and talking excitedly with George and Lee about tricky what-ifs.

When Lydia approached Fred smiled at her and waved, offering her his seat as he chose to stand behind her instead. Lydia smiled as she took the newly abandoned seat, her heart lifting a little at the sweet gesture, and grabbed a clean plate for breakfast. It had been the first one in about three days that she could actually sit down and enjoy. George remained in his seat beside her; even being so thoughtful enough to pile her plate with foods he deemed breakfasts essentials.

"The Georgie Special!" He proclaimed with a laugh, throwing an extra piece of sausage on top of her eggs.

Lydia thanked him and heartily ate his prepared meal for her while Fred's hand was tangled in her hair and gripping the back of her neck loosely. His roaming thumb would press into the sensitive skin that connected her collarbone to her neck occasionally and Lydia learned to enjoy the sensation. It felt like a miniature massage. 

Graham Montague had entered the Great Hall near the end of breakfast and Lydia couldn't help but wince as she assessed the damage to his face. The whole right side of his face was swollen and black; the skin across his broken nose was split, revealing a bit of cartilage and healing muscle to the naked eye. His bottom lip looked no better, swelling to three times its normal size and an angry gash splitting the tissue. His heavily bruised eyes were lowered into a deep and deadly glare as he walked past Lydia and Fred at the Gryffindor table.

Montague had forgone telling any teacher about the incident between Fred and himself; the Slytherin's ego far too big to admit that he had his ass handed to him by Fred Weasley.

Fred's grip on the back of Lydia's neck tightened as the two boys made eye contact and George had to step in to block Fred's line of sight on the Slytherin Chaser, "Drop him, mate." Fred merely shrugged him off instead and switched his attention to Lydia's hair; twisting the brown locks into uneven and knotty braids. He would soon brush them out after and begin helping Lydia gather her books together when the warning school bell boomed.

He moved without a single thought to his actions it seemed; did he not see just how dotting he was being towards Lydia, or was he really too busy laughing at Lee's soiled shirt from the jam Angelina tossed at him? Lydia couldn't help but stare at him in silent admiration. Perhaps she was worried sick for nothing after all, Lydia thought as Fred walked her to class--Eleanora off with her Ravenclaw friend from the night before--and he demanded she place a hand around his arm as they strode down the hall together.