They saw each other on the train back to school. Sylvia was squeezing past a pair of girls in the little hallway, holding her copy of The Secret History and her Walkman in one hand and Pigeon's cage in the other. She was listening to The Jesus and Mary Chain on cassette and it made the scene all the more ridiculously perfect, like she was in an MTV music video or the beginning of a movie where the main characters see each other for the first time.
He was stepping out of one of the compartments, looking back in and smiling like he was finishing talking to someone. Then he turned to look down the corridor and he blinked. He was still smiling, it just softened for a moment, the left side of his mouth turning up more than the right. The music literally swelled and he closed the compartment door to step towards her and they just stood there in front of each other, Sylvia's hands full and Jim Reid singing in her ears "aw honey give me one more chance" and Hope Sandoval singing back "oh you're a lucky son, lucky son of a gun" and she thought she might die from the predicability of the moment.
"Hi." Fred said, but she couldn't hear him.
She just looked up at him with her mouth open a little, breathing heavily like she just ran up a flight of stairs and he reached up to slide the little foam headphones off her ears. Sylvia laughed a little and chewed on the inside of her lips. He was leaning against the windows and put his hands in his pockets.
"Hi." He said again. His voice sounded like butter.
"Hello." She said back in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible. She wished he would take his hands out of his pockets and touch her hand or her hair, but he just swallowed and let his eyes wander over her face, leaving a sweet tickling sensation on her skin. His shoulder rose like he was going to reach out and he smiled a little wider, breathing out a little laugh.
"It's good to see you."
It's good to see you. Sylvie tried not to let her disenchantment show, but in doing so accidentally let out a short and harsh laugh. Fred's eyebrows raised and he grinned and dipped his head down a little bit in surprise.
"What?" He laughed.
"'It's good to see you'?" She grinned back, "That's the best you can do?"
He wet his bottom lip and took his hand out of his pocket to rub at his eye with his middle and forefinger and laughed again, kind of abashedly, like he was aware of how silly it sounded. Sylvia smiled, feeling her cheeks warm a little. Neither of them said anything and it went on for just a moment too long, long enough that Fred took a strong inhale and tucked his shoulders up and blinked quickly.
"We saved a seat for you." He threw his thumb back over his shoulder and Sylvia itched her cheek against her shoulder.
"Okay."
"Okay." He nodded and stepped around her, still smiling, "I'll be there in a minute."
Sylvia felt like throwing her book at the back of his head.
In the compartment, Fiona jumped from her seat to hug her and George tugged at her sleeve so she would lean down to hug him too. She felt very wanted then and it reassured her after the confusing encounter with Fred.
"Look, we're playing Uno!" Fiona jumped back into her seat, pulling a foot onto the cushion so her knee was bent up at her side.
Alicia sat across from her and gave Sylvia an exhausted look, "She's already beat me twice."
Sylvie smiled and sat between George and Angelina, very much aware that it was probably where Fred was sitting before.
"How are you so good at a game of chance?" She asked Fiona.
"I'm a natural." Fiona said proudly and proceeded to beat Alicia in all but ten moves.
Fred came back in and sat next to Fiona, by the sliding door. He threw a polite smile her way and she realized her music was still playing. She went to click the stop button and Lee threw a raised eyebrow from the seat opposite.
"What the bloody hell is that contraption?"
"Yeah, why does it have ear muffs on it?" George flicked a finger at the headphones around her neck.
Sylvia pulled them over her head and held it out a little, like she was displaying it for them.
"It's a Walkman. It plays music."
"What, through these?" George grabbed the headphones and inspected them before placing them around his own neck.
"Yeah, but you have to put them on your ears." She reached over to adjust the little orange pads on his ears, "And you put the tape in this and it travels through the cords up to the headphones."
She motioned to each part of the little machine, the rectangular box that popped open to slide the cassette in and the cord that coiled up to the ear pieces. He still didn't understand it, even after she reminded him that wizards new what records where, and that tapes were similar, and this was just a compact version of that, George just turned the box over in his hands like it was some futuristic object or a relic from the past. She pressed play and he nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement.
Fred told her to meet him in the left hallway of the seventh-floor corridor at 10pm that Wednesday. She waited on one of the stone benches, leaning her back up against the wall and feeling a canker sore with her tongue that she'd caused by chewing on the inside of her cheek in her sleep.
He stepped out of a door she hadn't seen before and held it open, looking down either end of the hall and waving her to come in. He had taken his sweater and off and held in his crossed arms and his tie was loosened around his neck. There was a fire crackling on one side of the room and a mirrored wall on the other, and the ceiling was arched all over with vaults that turned into suspended columns. Fred grinned and slowly walked backwards, proud of the space. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and she couldn't stop staring at his damn arms.
"I'm sure you've shown lots of girls this spot, huh?"
He shrugged and looked up at the architecture, "Yeah, but you're the first who's asked."
Sylvie laughed and reached out to push at his shoulder, "You're a piece of work."
He grinned wide and stepped away a little so his back was against the wall that faced out, spotted with tall gothic windows that looked out onto the top of the forest, and he watched her step in little circles, swinging her feet around her as she turned.
"Come here." He said.
She stopped looking around and turned to him, planting her feet in place as she looked at him with her head tilted down in skepticism. He widened his eyes a little and spoke to her in a thin, impatient voice.
"Come here."
The air seemed to grow warmer with every step she took towards him and she felt like she was walking through water. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and he reached out to touch her hair, tucking it behind her ear. It was the first time he'd touched her since they got back and she closed her eyes. She could feel him come in close, his breath against her cheek and his nose brushing at her temple as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, then on her jaw, and her neck. She breathed in deeply and let it out through her nose.
"I missed you." She whispered.
He smiled against her neck and leaned back, resting his hand on her waist, "Yeah?"
Sylvia opened her eyes, "Did you miss me?"
Fred just blinked softly and nodded. It was dark, but the light that bounced from the fireplace off the mirrored wall enveloped his face like it was going to absorb him. His eyelashes and hair lit up and turned flaxen and his eyes glowed from the inside out like jasper.
"Prove it." She said.
He pulled her in by the knot of her necktie and kissed her slow so his breath was hot against her mouth and she had to press up against him. She looped her fingers into the collar of his shirt and pulled down and he was leaning into her and her stomach arched into his and his hand was bunching up her shirt at her waist. It was so fervent and impassioned that she felt like she must be shaking from the adrenaline that shot through her veins. She pulled away to pull his tie over his head and unbutton his shirt. Her hands were trembling as she tried to push the little white buttons through their little holes. He dropped his sweater to the floor and she untucked the shirt from his pants to undo the last button. She moved the shirt from his shoulders like she was trying to unwrap a present without tearing the paper, her hands flat, slipping between his skin and the fabric in one smooth motion.
And then she was on her knees, looking up at him through her eyelashes and undoing his belt buckle. His hand brushed through her hair and she ran her tongue over him. She felt a little surge of pleasure boil in her stomach as his hand bunched up in her hair and he closed his eyes. She stopped to speak to him.
"Don't close your eyes."
He blinked at her and his lips parted. She kept her eyes on his and pressed in so he was touching the back of her throat and he breathed out a sharp, strained burst of air from his mouth.
"Jesus Christ." He said.
She leaned back and sat with her hands behind her and her knees up and wiped her bottom lip with her finger. Fred came down to the floor with her and crawled between her legs like a dog. Wetting her lips, she reached her finger out and he took it in his mouth. Then she held his face under his chin and said, "Take my clothes off."
He went slowly, slipping his finger through the knot in her tie and unbuttoning her shirt as she sat back and watched him. His long fingers were steady against her torso, parting the white fabric and letting it fall down her arms into a pool behind her. She tilted her head to watch him kneel back to pull her shoes off like they were made of glass, then her stockings, fingertips grazing against her calves. He looked at her eyes when he came back up, pulling on the thin little zipper on the side of her skirt and slipping it down. Then he got in close so their noses almost touched, one hand supporting his weight at her side and the other reaching behind to unclasp her bra.
And he kissed her again, so gently Sylvia thought she might be dreaming. She closed her eyes and leaned all the way back so her clothes were under her and her shoulders tensed against the cold marble floor. Fred kissed her all the way down her body, along her sternum and down her stomach and over the band of her underwear. His mouth felt hard against her pelvis and his hands held onto her hips and gripped tighter whenever her legs locked or she made a noise or put her hands in his hair.
He had a condom in his pocket and she put it on for him. When he was inside her, she let out airy moans into his shoulder and let her nails dig into his back.
When they were done, she put her clothes back on and shook out her hair as he watched from the floor with his hands folded behind his head.
"Your shirt's inside out." He said in a soft voice.
"Is it?" Sylvie craned her neck around and felt along the shoulder for the stitching, "Oh yeah. Thank you."
She slipped it off her shoulders and turned the sleeves right side out before putting it back on and buttoning it up. She walked over to him and crouched down with her knees pressing into her chest and brushed the hair from his forehead with her finger. Fred looked back at her and she suddenly felt self-conscious, like she was being too affectionate, and retracted her hand, rubbing it against her knee. An uncomfortable vulnerability overcame her then.
"Hey." He said.
She bit down hard on the inside of her lips so they turned thin and white. Fred cocked his head to the side a little and smiled.
"What's up?"
Her mouth felt stale and dry but she gave him a little smile back, "Nothing."
He reached out to take her hand and pulled her towards him until she was on his chest, "You sure?"
She nodded and he kissed her.
This new start of having relatively normal sex began a steady stream of scheduled meetings in the Come and Go Room after DA meetings. Each Wednesday, Sylvie would loiter around the seventh floor, avoiding the group of fifth-year Slytherins who would patrol the halls until Fred would come get her. They'd pretend to feign some sort of conversation before inevitably falling to the floor in a pile of half-undressed clothes only to redress and walk back to the Gryffindor common room in silence. Fred's hands were always in his pockets as they walked, and Sylvie let hers hang at her sides, itching for him to hold them. Weekends were riskier; out-of-house parties were essentially nonexistent, which meant the likelihood of their friends noticing was much higher. So, if they were drunk enough to not care so much, they'd find a dark corner or leave the common room all together, kissing on the stairs while the paintings jeered or averted their eyes.
But Fred had begun easing up around Sylvia in public again. He'd sit next to her during meals like it was a thoughtless coincidence, drawing no attention to it even though his knee was touching hers and his pinky finger would sometimes brush against her thigh. Even in classes where he usually sat with George or Lee, he'd sit with her, coming in late so the only option was to slink into the seat beside her and nudge his elbow into her arm.
On her birthday, Fred couldn't stop teasing her about how he was sleeping with an older woman. She wasn't even a month his senior.
"You know that makes me jailbait."
"I guess we'll have to refrain from anything until you're of age then." Sylvie crossed her arms over her chest.
It was early, they had spent the last night together in the common room and the sun was coming up through the windows.
"Happy birthday." He said when the space began to turn the cool blue of five o'clock.
"I didn't think you'd remember when my birthday was." She scratched at her neck and watched him move his eyebrows up and down at her with a sly grin.
She was tired and had class in three hours but just sank further into the couch. Fred was in the chair opposite her, his elbow propped on one of the arms and his cheek resting against his fist. One of his long legs was thrown over the other armrest and Sylvie thought he looked like a British heartthrob, like Sean Maguire or Alex James. They had never changed out of their uniforms from yesterday
"Do you have class today?" She asked him.
He nodded, "We have Divination together at eight."
She knew that already, but wanted to keep talking with him.
"Is it Tuesday?"
"You should know, it's your birthday."
"I suppose." She looked at the ceiling, feeling his eyes on her profile, "I think I'm gonna skip."
"And risk the wrath of Umbridge? That's brave of you."
She yawned, "I'm tired."
Fred's voice was low but soft with sleepiness, "Come over here."
Sylvie looked over to him and scoffed, "Why?"
"I want you to."
"What if I did everything you wanted? Life would be pretty boring wouldn't it?"
Even through the obvious joke, she felt like she was lying. She did do everything he wanted. She was always dying to do what he wanted because she always wanted the same and more. Fred felt it too, but he just grinned at her.
"Then I'll come over there."
She sat up so he could sit behind her and she leaned back into him. His legs were on either side of her and he crossed his arms over her chest and she wanted him to just completely surround and absorb her in. He set his chin on the top of her head and breathed in a deep heavy breath and let it out like he was going to fall asleep. They lay there for another hour until the first sounds of footsteps sounded above their heads, when Sylvie instinctively sat up and looked at Fred over her shoulder. He cocked his head slightly and smiled softly. I love you, she wanted to say, I'm in love with you and you don't even know it. Then she thought about what his reaction would be and got up.
"I'll see you later." She whispered.
That night he brought her to the Come and Go Room and pulled a small wrapped box out of his pocket.
"What's this?" Sylvie asked coyly, taking it from him and looking up at Fred without tilting her head back. He shrugged and put his hands back in his pockets.
It was a silver watch with a sturdy brown leather band and a dark green face that looked textured like suede in the dim light. There were no numbers or numerals, just two thin hands that looked like little pointing fingers.
"Fred." She said in a quiet, earnest tone, furrowing her eyebrows down at the watch, "This is lovely."
He breathed in quickly and reached out to put it on her wrist. She could hear the smile in his voice, "It changes colors depending on your surroundings."
His fingers left goosebumps on her wrist like holding ice to burning flesh. She nearly dropped dead from the jumpstart it gave her heartbeat. And sure enough, when he buckled the latch and she turned it over to admire the face, the plushy green began to shift, like pushing against a velvet couch's grain, to a deep crimson, the color of coagulated blood.
"Ahh," Fred tapped at it quickly, "See, it works."
"And how do I know what each color means?"
He merely shrugged, "I figured we could find out."
Sylvia snorted, but could feel her pulse knock against the vein on her neck like a hammer, "I can't believe you got me a mood-watch."
"I'm just full of surprises today, aren't I?"
On his birthday, Fred showed Sylvia the back of his hand.
They'd been caught and got a hole blown through the Come and Go Room. Fred called it The Room of Requirement. Twenty students in detention with Umbridge all came out an hour later with red hands and blinking eyes, as if they'd just been caned, even the sole first-year.
Fred broke into one of the empty seventh-floor classrooms, where dusty cabinets and desks lined the back and the windows were left open. Humid air filled the room and made Sylvia's skin feel sticky under her shirt. Fred smiled and told her he could teach her how to conjure her patronus now.
She looked up at him through lowered eyebrows and he blinked softly, shrugging. But she took his hand in hers and touched the irritated skin around the scarring like he was made out of tissue paper and would tear with the slightest bit of pressure. She didn't look at his face, she couldn't. It was like if she did, a wave of grief so great would flow over her and she'd burst into tears. But the undeniable sensation of his eyes on her every move gave her a sudden flutter of pleasant nerves. She held his hand with tentative carefulness and, slowly, his fingers flexed and folded until they were intertwined with hers.
Sylvia opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say, so she just let her lips part as she watched Fred lift their hands to his lips. He opened her hand like pulling back the petals of a flower and kissed her palm, warm and dry and soft, and she fell into him.
I love you I love you I love you. She wanted to scream it into his chest until her voice went hoarse and more, until she couldn't speak and that was the last thing she ever said. His shirt smelled like a boy and she breathed it in, wrapping her arms around his chest and squeezing as hard as she could. Fred squeezed back, holding her against him with a hand in her hair and the other on the space between her shoulder blades.
And then they were kissing, holding the sides of each other's faces and furrowing their brows like it was an act of frustrated duty. Sylvia felt like crying, as if that could affirm the strange intensity she was feeling then. She already was, without realizing it, her cheeks were wet with tears that fell from her eyes without stinging them, like a faucet whose handles hadn't been twisted closed all the way.
"Why are you crying?" Fred whispered, thumbs rubbing against her cheekbones. But she just kissed him harder, pushing him back into the window behind him and pulling up at the hem of his shirt. He let her lift it up his torso and over his head, her hands raking through his hair when she kissed him again.
She leaned back so his body had to follow her down to the cold floor, his hands running between her waist and the ground, but it wasn't enough. She needed to get as close as she could to him, pressing herself against his body like they would eventually just melt into each other like water droplets on a coin. He was starting to unbutton her shirt.
She was going to say it. The words felt solid against the back of her throat like tonsils and her tongue went dry. Her stomach roiled with nerves and her palms were damp with sweat. She was going to tell him she loved him and she couldn't do anything about it.
"I'm moving to New York."
Fred lifted off of her, knitting his eyebrows down at her as her eyes opened the slightest bit, cast downwards. She looked confused.
"Oh. Right." He nodded.
A pair of dark grey eyes flicked up to his, sharp and glassy like polished knives. But she blinked away and cleared her throat, bringing up her hand to quickly wipe at her nose.
"Okay." She whispered, more to herself than to him, and she pushed off the ground, forcing Fred to sit back.
He thought about asking her where she was going, just to say something, but couldn't. His mouth tasted stale and felt slimy like he had just woken up and he couldn't make it speak. And it was hot suddenly, like the temperature had risen ten degrees and he felt a bead of sweat trail down his back. He wondered if he was having an episode.
Sylvia stood, hastily tucking her shirt back into her skirt and closing up the top few buttons. She wasn't crying anymore. In fact, her eyes looked completely dry and her cheeks were colorless, save for the harsh spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Fred didn't dress. He just watched from the floor as she avoided his gaze and left. The temperature dropped again.
As he lay in bed that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the way her voice hitched when she said "I'm moving" like she had meant to say something else but in that split second did otherwise. He analyzed it, playing her words over and over in his head like a record player with a broken needle, skipping over the same few words until they didn't sound like English anymore. They were just meaningless noise now.
The next morning, he skipped class. George and Angelina had a class together that period, he had no idea about Alicia and Fiona's schedules, and he doubted Lee would know anything about Sylvie's plans for after graduation, so he walked over to the Great Hall, hoping to catch someone. He spotted Alicia and sat down across from her.
"Alicia." He said.
"Hm?" She furrowed her brows down at her food in concentration, buttering a piece of toast.
"Did Sylvie ever mention anything about going to New York next year?"
She nodded, licking butter off her thumb, and looked up, "Yeah, she got into women's college over there the other day. McGonagall and Burbage have been helping her all year with applications and stuff."
Fred nodded and made a sort of "hm" sound.
"Honestly it doesn't sound like a bad idea. I'm not sure why no one else has done that before."
"Done what?"
"Muggle schooling, like after finishing here."
"What else is there to learn?" His tone was bitter and Alicia raised an eyebrow at him, waving her hand around as she spoke.
"Lots of things. It's specialized. You get a degree in whatever subject you want."
"What is she even specializing in?"
She sighed, widening her eyes at him in annoyance, "Why don't you ask her, Fred?"
He swallowed and looked away. He never asked her.